THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


. 


"GROUND  ARMS1" 

THE  STORY  OF  A  LIFE 


"GROUND  ARMS!" 

THE  STORY  OF  A  LIFE 


BY 

BERTHA  VON  SUTTNER 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN 
BY  ALICE  ASBURY   ABBOTT 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  COMPANY 
1892 


COPYRIGHT, 

BY  A.  C.  MCCLURG  AND  COMPANY. 
A.  D.  1892. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 


The  author  of  "  Ground  Arms!",  Baroness  von  Suttner, 
is  an  Austrian  of  the  upper  class,  the  daughter  of  an  Aus- 
trian general.  Before  the  appearance  of  this  work  she 
had  written  several  witty  and  tender  society  novels — she 
is  a  sentimentalist  of  the  German  type — but  she  had  given 
no  evidence  of  greater  power.  She  is  a  handsome,  brill- 
iant woman  of  the  world,  who  has  become  thoroughly 
imbued  with  the  importance  of  the  higher  education  of 
women.  In  "  Ground  Arms! ",  where  she  stepped  at  once 
upon  a  higher  plane  than  she  had  occupied  in  any  pre- 
vious work,  she  emphasizes  the  necessity  of  this  better 
training  for  women  if  the  highest  degree  of  civilization  is 
to  be  attained  by  the  world  at  large.  She  reasons,  like 
Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  though  she  does  not  clothe  the 
thought  in  his  words,  that  if  woman  is  to  perform  all  the 
duties  of  her  station,  the  era  of  universal  peace,  secured 
by  international  arbitration,  must  first  be  secured. 

To  hastening  the  advent  of  the  rule  of  justice  obtained 
without  force  she  seems  now  to  have  largely  devoted  her 
life.  Recently,  as  Vice-President  of  the  International 
Peace  Congress  at  Rome,  she  stood  on  the  rostrum  to 
address  a  most  brilliant  and  distinguished  assembly — the 
first  woman  since  Corinna,  whose  voice  has  been  heard 
within  the  walls  of  the  famous  capitol. 

The  success  of  "  Ground  Arms! "  in  Germany  has  been 
amazing.  In  the  Austrian  Parliament  grave  ministers  of 
finance  have  commended  its  reading;  all  ranks  of  life 


6  PREFACE, 

have  been  profoundly  impressed  by  it,  and  able  critics 
have  compared  its  influence  in  Germany  to  that  of 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  in  the  United  States. 

This  effect  is  largely  due  to  the  terrible  tension  of  the 
public  mind  in  Europe,  caused  by  the  daily  and  hourly 
anticipation  of  war.  Baroness  von  Suttner  is  keenly 
alive  to  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  she  has  written  this 
book  with  a  hot  heart  and  a  burning  pen.  Naturally  she 
has  not  escaped  the  attacks  of  the  believers  in  the  jus- 
tice and  prudence  of  the  present  condition  of  things,  and 
is  accused  of  belonging  to  the  sentimental  company  of 
apostles  and  owners  of  patent  rights  to  reform  and  regen- 
erate the  world.  The  book  is  a  crusade  against  war,  and 
its  whole  object  is  to  present  the  claims  of  the  individual 
and  the  family  as  superior  to  those  of  the  state;  as  an 
individualist  she  presses  the  claim  of  every  human  being 
to  the  ownership  and  control  of  his  own  life.  Then, 
regarding  the  family  as  the  social  unit,  she  emphasizes 
the  claim  of  wife  and  child  as  far  superior  to  that  of 
church  or  state. 

Though  "  Ground  Arms! "  is  apparently  a  very  simple 
story,  its  philosophy  is  profound;  but  so  quietly  and  un- 
pretendingly is  it  unfolded,  that  we  are  continually  sur- 
prised by  the  strength  of  the  author's  logic.  We  are 
sometimes  oppressed  by  her  method,  which  is  often  pain- 
fully realistic,  and  in  other  respects  is  similar  to  that  of 
many  of  the  noblest  spirits  of  our  time — the  method 
prompted  by  the  Weltschmerz,  the  groan  of  the  world, 
which  too  often  cripples  our  efforts  because  of  its  good-by 
to  hope,  but  in  her  case  inspires  to  work  of  a  very  noble 
character. 

This  cry  of  a  weeping,  passionate  woman  is  but  an  echo 
of  the  conscience  of  the  times.  So  long  as  it  remains 
true  that,  in  the  main,  diplomatists  and  kings  plot  wars, 


PREFACE.  7 

not  always  with  the  special  aim,  but  certainly  with  the 
result  of  arresting  the  social  development  of  humanity — 
it  being  with  them  a  struggle  to  ignore  as  long  as  possible 
the  individual  rights  of  man — so  long  must  such  books  as 
this  aid  in  the  advance  of  justice.  It  may  not  be  to-day 
or  to-morrow  that  this  influence  will  prevail,  but  it  is 
certainly  in  the  trend  of  modern  thought,  and  tends  to 
aid  the  tremendous  social  and  moral  revolution  which  all 
reflecting  minds  must  see  approaching. 

Any  progress  in  the  development  of  states  through 
war  and  revolution  our  author  regards  as  entailing  such 
heavy  misfortune,  retrogression,  and  demoralization  to 
the  individual  as  seriously  to  retard  the  general  welfare 
of  humanity.  This  is  the  natural  standpoint  of  the  evolu- 
tionist, who  applies  his  principle  to  sociological  prob- 
lems, and  in  so  doing  antagonizes  the  revolutionary  ideas 
of  radical  socialism. 

There  may  be  some  who  will  be  offended  at  the  half- 
cynical  way  in  which  Baroness  von  Suttner  exposes  the 
egotism  of  man,  in  ascribing  to  the  Christian  God  con- 
venient sympathy  with  conditions  which  are  relics  of  bar- 
barism ;  but  such  should  bear  in  mind  that  she  has  no 
contention  with  the  principles  of  the  founder  of  Chris- 
tianity, only  a  very  serious  quarrel  with  the  misinter- 
pretation of  these  principles,  and  with  the  practical 
neglect  of  their  application.  In  this  countless  numbers, 
within  and  without  the  pale  of  the  church,  will  agree 
with  her.  Everywhere  society  is  rebelling  against  the 
abuse  of  the  principles  of  Christian  philosophy.  Among 
all  sects,  keen-eyed  clergy  are  despairing  of  past  methods, 
and  from  them  comes  often  enough  an  arraignment  of 
the  church  for  its  failure  in  the  practical  application  of 
the  principles  of  its  faith.  Even  the  non-believer  in  the 
miraculous  origin  of  the  Christian  religion  is  sturdily 


8  PREFACE. 

fighting  for  the  application  of  its  ethics  while  stemming 
the  force  of  time  honored  precedents.  The  main  feature 
of  Christ's  life  and  teaching,  it  is  now  everywhere 
acknowledged,  is  to  fit  man  to  live  with  man,  not  to 
prepare  him  for  the  hereafter — unless  the  doing  of  the 
one  may  be  considered  an  assurance  of  the  other.  The 
author  of  "  Ground  Arms ! "  is  right  when  she  practically 
asserts  that  when  in  the  development  of  society  Christ's 
tender  philosophy  controls  the  world,  there  will  be  an 
end  of  war. 

A.  A.  A. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

FIRST  BOOK — 1859,    -  -                       n 

SECOND  BOOK — Time  of  Peace,  -                 42 

THIRD  BOOK — 1864,    -  86 

FOURTH  BOOK — 1866,      -  -               129 

FIFTH  BOOK — Time  of  Peace,  212 

SIXTH  BOOK — 1870-71,    -  -              244 

EPILOGUE — 1889,         -  -                     272 


GROUND  ARMS! 


FIRST  BOOK. 
1859. 

AT  seventeen  I  was  a  curiously  overwrought 
being.  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  at  this 
date  to  comprehend  my  girlish  peculiarities,  were 
it  not  for  the  diffuse  and  pretentious  diaries  which 
have  been  carefully  laid  away,  thus  marking  the 
progressive  stages  of  my  life.  There  lie,  cruelly 
impaled,  my  long-lost  enthusiasms,  convictions  of 
which  not  a  shadow  remains,  views  no  longer  in- 
telligible, sympathies  dead  and  buried  and  gone 
to  judgment.  I  am  thus,  though  somewhat  bewil- 
dered, able  to  get  some  inkling  of  the  character 
of  the  vacuity  of  the  silly,  pretty  head  writing  all 
this  rubbish.  Even  of  this  beauty  I  now  find  but 
little  trace,  anxiously  as  I  may  study  my  mirror, 
though  old  portraits  are  my  surety  for  its  existence. 
I  can  well  imagine  what  an  enviable  creature 
this  Countess  Martha  Althaus  must  have  been. 
Young,  handsome,  popular  and  petted.  But  sin- 
gularly enough  these  red-bound  diaries  indicate 
more  melancholy  than  joy  in  life.  Can  I  actually 
have  been  so  silly  as  not  to  realize  the  advantages 
of  my  position,  or  only  so  unbalanced  as  to  believe 
that  these  sorrowful  sentimentalities  were  interest- 
ing and  particularly  valuable  if  expressed  in  some- 
what poetical  prose  ?  My  lot  appeared  unsatisfac- 
tory, for  I  find  in  one  of  these  precious  documents: 
"Ah,  Joan  of  Arc!  heaven-blessed  heroic  virgin, 
could  I  but  wave  the  oriflamme  of  France,  crown 
my  king,  and  die  for  country — my  dear  country!" 


12  "GROUND  A  RMS  I" 

The  opportunity  to  gratify  these  modest  ambi- 
tions appears  to  have  failed  me.  The  noble  army 
of  Christian  martyrs  seems  next  to  have  been  re- 
garded as  worthy  of  emulation  (date,  19  Septem- 
ber, 1853),  though  this  r^also  proved  to  be  equally 
difficult  of  imitation.  I  evidently  was  forced  to  the 
realization  that  all  these  glorious  opportunities 
for  action,  after  which  my  soul  thirsted,  were 
forever  closed  to  me,  that  therefore  my  life  was  a 
failure. 

"Oh,  why  did  I  not  come  into  the  world  a  boy" 
(this  was  a  frequent  form  of  denunciation  of  fate, 
delivered  in  melodious  measure  at  spasmodic 
intervals).  Then  fortune  would  have  been  kind 
and  opportunity  golden.  Of  feminine  heroism  his- 
tory inscribes  but  few  examples.  How  few  of  us 
appear  to  have  Gracchi  for  sons!  How  seldom  it  is 
our  mission  to  carry  our  husbands  through  the 
Weinsberg  Gates,  or  to  cause  fierce,  saber-swinging 
Magyars  to  shout:  "  Long  live  Maria  Theresa,  our 
king! " 

But  when  one  has  the  advantage  of  masculinity 
one  can  buckle  on  the  sword  and  dash  abroad  to 
win  fame  and  laurels,  capture  a  throne,  like  Crom- 
well, or  an  empire,  like  Napoleon.  I  remember 
distinctly  that  the  very  highest  type  of  manhood 
seemed  to  me  embodied  in  a  military  hero.  For 
learned  men,  poets,  and  adventurous  discoverers  of 
new  countries  I  had  some  slight  respect,  but 
admiration,  simon-pure  adoration,  I  laid  at  the  feet 
of  the  military  hero  and  winner  of  battles.  Such 
are  the  makers  of  history,  the  leaders  of  the  fate 
of  empires.  In  grandeur  of  character,  in  nobleness 
of  motive,  in  all  but  god-like  attributes,  these  ex- 
celled all  other  human  beings  as  Alpine  or  Hima- 
layan peaks  tower  above  the  grass  and  wild  flow- 
ers of  the  valley.  From  all  of  which  it  appears 
that  I  possessed  what  is  popularly  considered  an 
heroic  nature;  while  the  truth  was  simply  this:  I 
was  enthusiastic  and  passionate,  and  these  pecul- 
iarities were  naturally  diverted  into  this  channel 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  13 

by  the  character  of  my  education  and  my  environ- 
ments. 

My  father  was  an  Austrian  general,  who  had 
fought  at  Custozza  under  "  Father  Radetzky," 
whom  he  absolutely  adored.  What  have  I  not 
heard  in  the  way  of  stories  of  camp  and  field.  He 
was  so  tremendously  proud  of  his  military  advent- 
ures, and  so  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  relation  of 
his  campaigns,  that  I  actually  pitied  other  men  who 
lacked  a  similar  experience.  What  a  fearful  dis- 
advantage to  woman  that  she  is  forever  cut  off 
from  the  opportunity  of  such  service  to  her  country, 
to  honor  and  duty.  At  that  period  we  heard  but 
little  of  the  emancipation  of  women,  and  though 
the  precious  little  we  did  hear  was  coupled  with  a 
covert  sneer,  I  grasped  the  emancipation  idea  from 
one  side  only.  I  was  determined  women  should 
have  the  right  to  go  to  war.  How  enchanted  I  was 
with  the  story  of  Semiramis  or  Catherine  II:  "She 
made  war  upon  this  or  that  neighboring  power  — 
she  conquered  this  or  that  kingdom." 

History  is  responsible  for  this  training  of  youth 
to  the  idea  of  the  glory  of  war.  From  baby  days 
it  is  stamped 'upon  the  impressionable  childish 
mind  that  the  God  of  Battles  has  ordained  wars, 
and  that  this  divine  ordinance  regulates  the  history 
of  nations;  that  these  are  engaged  in  the  fulfill- 
ment of  immutable  decree,  a  law  of  nature,  like 
tornadoes  and  earthquakes,  which  from  time  to- 
time  will  not  be  stemmed;  that  though  atroci- 
ties and  wickedness,  sorrow  and  heart-breaking 
anguish  are  bound  up  therewith,  these  cannot  be 
avoided,  and  must  be  recognized  as  a  portion  of 
the  inevitable.  The  magnitude  of  the  result 
attained  for  the  advantage  of  the  many  justifies 
the  sacrifice  of  the  happiness,  the  interests,  or  the 
very  life  of  the  individual.  Is  there  a  nobler  death 
than  comes  in  the  line  of  duty  on  the  field  of  honor 
—  a  more  enviable  immortality  than  that  of  the 
heroic  soldier? 

Lo!     There  it  all  stands  clear  as  sunlight  in  all 


14  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

the  primers  and  readers  for  the  use  of  schools, 
where,  instead  of  a  genuine  history  of  the  devel- 
opment of  nations  and  humanity  there  are  only 
long  lists  of  battles,  and  wonderful  and  entrancing 
stories  of  the  military  prowess  of  individual  heroes. 
It  all  belongs  to  what  is  popularly  considered  a 
necessary  system  for  the  development  of  patriot- 
ism. That  every  child  shall  be  made  a  fit  and 
willing  defender  of  his  country,  his  enthusiasm  for 
this  first  duty  of  the  citizen  is  most  carefully  cul- 
tivated. His  natural  sympathy  with  humanity, 
his  instinctive  horror  of  inflicting  suffering  upon 
others  must  be  as  carefully  repressed.  The  inborn 
divine  impulse  of  hatred  for  the  barbarism  and 
inhumanity  of  war  becomes  so  warped  by  careless 
and  superficial  treatment  of  this  part  of  the  story 
that  only  the  impression  of  the  old  national  ideals, 
so  useful  for  the  aggrandizement  of  nations,  can 
remain.  And  we  succeed  thereby  in  building  up 
a  valorous  and  war  loving  race. 

The  girls — who  are  not  allowed  to  go  into  camp 
— being  drilled  out  of  the  same  books  and  sub- 
jected to  the  same  system,  develop  a  like  admir- 
ation for  war  and  the  military  service.  Delightful 
pictures  for  gentle  women — for  we  are  told  we  must 
be  tender  and  gentle — are  delivered  to  us  in  fright- 
ful stories  of  carnage  and  rapine  of  all  the  battles 
of  the  earth  from  the  Biblical  and  Macedonian  and 
Punic  down  to  those  of  the  Thirty  Years'  and  the 
Napoleonic  wars.  Naturally  through  such  repe- 
tition one's  perception  of  the  horrors  of  the  thing 
become  calloused.  Everything  which  according  to 
the  rubrics  of  war  must  be  expected  is  no  longer 
judged  from  the  standpoint  of  humanity,  but  re- 
ceives a  quite  special,  mystical,  historical,  political 
sanctification.  It  must  be — it  is  the  source  of 
highest  dignity  and  honor.  The  girls  have  not 
learned  all  the  military  odes  by  heart  for  nothing. 
And  so  we  hear  of  that  stronger  race,  the  Spartan 
mothers,  and  the  women  who  present  battle  flags 
and  regimental  colors,  and  the  numerous  admirers 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  15 

of  brass  buttons,  who  make  the  officers'  corps  play 
the  role  of  happy  belles  by  their  invitations  during 
the  "  German." 

I  was  not  educated  in  a  convent,  as  is  generally 
the  case  in  my  rank  of  life,  but  had  tutors  and  a 
governess  at  home.  I  lost  my  mother  early  and 
her  place  was  in  a  measure  filled  to  the  children — 
there  were  four  of  us — by  an  aunt.  We  spent  our 
winters  in  Vienna,  our  summers  on  the  family  es- 
tate in  Lower  Austria.  Being  an  ambitious  scholar, 
blessed  with  a  good  memory,  I  was  the  joy  of  my 
teachers.  Since  I  could  not  attain  the  coveted 
career  of  an  heroic  female  warrior,  I  excited  the 
admiration  of  all  around  by  my  enthusiastic  essays 
upon  those  of  either  sex  who  had  thus  made  the 
world's  history.  French  and  English  I  acquired 
perfectly.  Of  natural  history,  astronomy,  and 
physics  I  mastered  all  that  was  then  considered 
adapted  to  the  feminine  comprehension,  but  to  the 
history  of  nations  there  was  no  limitation,  and  I 
devoured  everything  within  reach  in  my  father's 
library.  But  for  piano  playing  I  had  an  uncon- 
querable aversion.  Long  and  earnestly  I  pleaded 
to  be  excused  from  such  a  waste  of  precious  time, 
and  finally  by  my  obstinacy  induced  my  father  to 
grant  me  immunity  from  this  torment  contrary  to 
the  scandalized  conviction  of  my  aunt,  that  in  so 
doing  I  ignored  the  chief  and  most  important  part 
of  education. 

On  the  tenth  of  March,  1857,  I  celebrated  my 
seventeenth  birthday.  "  Already  seventeen,"  I  find 
set  down  under  this  date.  This  "already"  is  a 
poem.  Without  further  commentary  it  seems  to 
signify  "and  nothing  done  for  immortality." 

It  was  arranged  that  during  the  approaching 
carnival  I  should  be  introduced  to  society.  This 
gave  me  no  such  pleasure  as  is  generally  felt  by 
girls.  I  had  some  higher  aims  than  ball-room  con- 
quests. What  were  these  ?  I  had  frequently 
asked  myself  this  question  without  being  able  to 


16  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

answer  it.  Possibly  it  was  love  I  was  unknowingly, 
blindly  waiting  for.  All  these  glowing  aspirations 
and  ambitious  dreams  which  swell  the  human 
heart  during  the  youth  of  either  sex,  and  which 
under  all  forms  thirst  for  knowledge,  for  travel, 
for  action — seek  gratification,  are  mostly  only  the 
unrecognized  struggles  of  an  awakening  desire  for 
love. 

During  the  summer  my  aunt  was  ordered  to  try 
the  springs  at  Marienbad.  She  found  it  conven- 
ient to  take  me  with  her.  Although  my  official 
recognition  in  the  social  world  was  not  to  take 
place  until  the  following  winter,  I  was  allowed  to 
attend  several  small  dancing  parties — as  a  sort  of 
practice  in  behavior,  so  that  I  should  not  appear  too 
shy  and  awkward  when  that  time  came.  But  what 
happened  at  the  very  first  of  these  "re-unions?" 
A  serious,  impassioned  attachment.  Of  course  the 
object  was  an  officer  of  the  Hussars.  Naturally  I 
had  no  eyes  for  civilians  when  the  military  were  so 
largely  represented.  Among  the  most  brilliant  of 
this  dashing  branch  of  the  service  Count  Arno 
Dotzky  was  the  leading  star.  Over  six  feet  in 
height,  with  black,  curly  hair,  gleaming  teeth,  dark 
eyes,  piercing  and  tender — in  short,  upon  the 
question:  "Can  you  give  me  the  cotillion,  Count- 
ess?" I  was  satisfied  there  were  triumphs  as 
glowing  as  waving  the  oriflamme  of  France  or 
carrying  the  sceptre  of  Catherine  II.  And  he,  the 
two-and-twenty  years  old  lieutenant,  dancing  with 
the  prettiest  girl  in  the  room  (after  thirty  years  one 
may  be  allowed  to  say  so),  flying  down  the  hall  in 
waltzing  time,  doubtless  thought:  "  For  you,  my 
sweetheart,  I  would  not  exchange  a  marshal's 
baton." 

"  But  Martha,  Martha! "  scolded  my  aunt,  as  I 
sank  breathless  upon  the  sofa  at  her  side,  covering 
her  with  the  swaying  clouds  of  tulle  of  my  dress. 

"  Oh  pardon,  pardon,  Auntie,"  I  exclaimed.  "  I 
cannot  help  it." 

"  How  can  you  conduct  yourself  in  such  a  man- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  17 

ner  with  that  Hussar — and  to  look  at  a  man  in  such 
a  way!"  she  exclaimed.  I  reddened  deeply.  Had 
I  behaved  immodestly?  And  what  would  the  in- 
comparable creature  himself  think  about  it. 

From  these  dismal  doubts  I  was  relieved  during 
the  evening  when  my  adorer  whispered  anxiously  : 

"You  must  hear  me — now,  this  evening:  I  love 
you." 

That  sounded  rather  different  from  the  famous 
voices  heard  by  Joan  of  Arc.  But  we  were  dancing 
and  I  could  not  answer  him.  He  led  me  into  a 
corner  and  eagerly  continued: 

"Answer,  Countess,  what  have  I  to  hope  for." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  I  replied. 

"  Do  you  not  really  believe  in  love  at  first  sight?" 

Up  to  the  present  I  had  had  grave  doubts  upon 
this  subject. 

"  I  throw  myself  upon  your  mercy,"  he  exclaimed; 
"you  or  no  other.  Decide  for  life  or  death.  Life  is 
not  worth  having  without  you.  Will  you  marry  me? " 

To  such  a  furious  and  direct  attack  I  was  forced 
to  answer.  I  should  have  liked  to  invent  some 
diplomatic,  dignified  reply,  which  might  leave  him 
a  fragment  of  hope  and  yet  preserve  my  dignity, 
but  could  master  nothing  more  than  a  very  abashed 
"yes." 

"  Then  I  can  call  upon  your  aunt  in  the  morning 
and  write  to  Count  Althaus." 

Again  "  yes  " — this  time  more  courageously. 

"What  a  happy  man  I  am!  So  you  loved  me  at 
first  sight?" 

This  time  I  answered  only  with  my  eyes,  which, 
however,  uttered  an  unmistakable  "yes." 

We  were  betrothed  on  my  eighteenth  birthday, 
after  which  I  was  presented  at  court.  Upon  our 
marriage  we  undertook  an  Italian  journey,  for 
which  purpose  Arno  was  granted  a  long  leave  of 
absence.  Of  retirement  from  the  army  there  was 
never  a  thought.  True,  we  each  possessed  a  hand- 
some fortune,  but  my  husband  loved  the  service, 


18  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

as  I  also  did.  I  was  proud  of  my  elegant  Hussar 
and  looked  forward  to  his  certain  promotion — to 
be  a  captain,  then  of  course  a  colonel,  possibly  a 
military  governor,  or,  who  knew  but  he  might  be- 
come a  field-marshal  should  glorious  war  give  him 
the  opportunity  to  serve  his  country. 

My  note-books  fail  me  entirely  as  to  events  dur- 
ing our  honeymoon.  In  truth,  there  are  no  notes 
whatever  of  the  happy  periods  of  my  life.  I  appear 
in  those  long-lost  years  to  have  thought  happiness 
unworthy  of  record,  while  for  every  ail  or  peevish 
humor  of  my  past  I  found  time  to  waste  pen  and 
ink.  As  if  when  one  went  down  into  a  rose  garden, 
one  brought  back  naught  but  weeds  and  noxious 
insects. 

But  I  can  remember  it  was  a  fairy  story.  I  had 
all  that  woman's  heart  could  wish — love,  riches,  rank 
and  health.  We  loved  each  other  passionately,  and, 
as  it  chanced,  my  dashing  Hussar  was  in  addition 
a  manly,  noble-hearted  soul,  with  cultivated  man- 
ners and  a  merry  nature.  It  would  not  have  been 
strange  if  he  had  turned  out  an  evil  and  coarse  man, 
but  heaven  was  kind.  I,  on  my  part,  might  have 
proved  the  most  peevish,  discontented  of  my  sex, 
but  fortunately  I  was  a  cheerful,  loving  woman.  It 
was  not  our  own  discretion  which  preserved  us  from 
a  mistake. 

At  last  I  find  one  happy  event  set  down — my 
delight  over  my  new  dignity  as  mother.  On  the 
first  of  January  our  son  was  born.  Naturally  this 
event  aroused  as  much  astonishment  and  pride  as 
if  we  were  the  first  pair  to  be  so  honored.  For  a 
time  my  journal  was  full  of  comment  upon  the 
mystical  and  sacred  province  of  a  mother.  It  is 
the  special  aim  of  certain  social  rubrics  entitled 
"maternal  love,"  "maternal  happiness"  and 
"maternal  pride,"  to  magnify  the  office  of  a 
mother.  There  is  a  class  of  literature  and  art  care- 
fully cultivated  to  this  end,  such  as  collections  of 
poems,  baby  songs,  illustrated  journals  and  picture 
galleries,  just  as  in  another  direction  school  books 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  19 

are  arranged  for  the  fostering  of  an  admiration  and 
love  of  war.  Next  to  hero  worship  comes  baby 
worship.  But  ah!  my  son — my  manly,  noble 
Rudolph — the  love  of  your  and  my  mature  years  as 
far  exceeds  that  baby  worship  as  the  character  of 
the  developed  man  excels  the  nature  of  the  nursling. 
The  young  father  was  not  a  little  proud  of  his 
successor  and  planned  the  sunniest  future.  "What 
shall  he  be?"  Of  course,  a  soldier.  Sometimes  the 
mother  would  protest:  "But  he  might  be  killed 
in  battle."  "  Nonsense;  and  if  he  were,  one  dies  but 
once,  and  where  it  is  appointed  one  to  die.  We  can- 
not help  it."  Besides,  we  should  have  other  sons. 
Rudolph  must  be  the  soldier,  like  his  father  and  his 
grandfather  before  him.  So  it  was  settled.  At 
two  months  of  age  his  vocation  was  marked  out  for 
him.  His  father  saluted  whenever  he  was  brought 
into  the  room,  and  on  his  third  monthly  birthday 
he  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  corporal.  On  that 
same  day  a  great  anxiety  darkened  my  life  and  I 
flew  to  my  note-book  to  mark  how  heavy  my  heart 
had  grown. 

On  the  political  horizon  there  had  risen  certain 
suspicious,  black  clouds,  commented  on  daily  by 
the  press  and  wherever  people  congregated. 

"  There  is  going  to  be  trouble  with  Italy,"  my 
father,  my  husband,  and  their  military  friends  had 
frequently  mentioned  in  my  hearing.  But  I  was 
too  much  occupied  to  bother  myself  with  politics. 
But  on  that  first  of  April  Arno  said  to  me: 

"  See  here,  Sweetheart — it  will  soon  break  out." 

"  What  will  break  out?  " 

"The  war  with  Sardinia." 

I  was  terrified. 

"Gracious  God — that  will  be  terrible!  Must  you 
go?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"  How  can  you  say  that  ?  Hope  to  leave  your 
wife  and  child?" 

"  When  duty  calls." 

"Then  we  must  be  reconciled.  But  hope — to 
wish  that  such  a  bitter  duty " 


20  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  Bitter?  Why,  such  a  dashing,  jolly  war  will  be 
glorious.  You  are  a  soldier's  wife — do  not  forget 
that." 

I  threw  myself  into  his  arms. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  I  can  be  brave.  How  often 
I  have  envied  the  heroes  of  history;  how  I  have 
longed  to  go  into  battle.  If  I  could  only  go  with 
you ! " 

"All  very  fine,  my  wife,  but  impracticable.  Your 
place  is  here,  at  the  cradle  of  our  child,  who  must 
grow  up  to  be  a  defender  of  his  country.  Your 
place  is  at  the  fireside.  To  protect  this  from  the 
attack  of  the  enemy  and  secure  peace  for  our 
homes  and  wives  we  men  must  go  to  war." 

I  do  not  know  why  these  words,  which  in  similar 
fashion  I  had  read  and  admired,  somehow  this  time 
sounded  like  hollow  phrases.  There  was  no  ad- 
vancing army;  no  barbarous  horde  stood  at  the 
door — simply  a  political  complication  between  two 
cabinets.  Though  my  husband  insisted  so  enthu- 
siastically upon  going  to  war,  there  certainly  was 
no  pressing  necessity  to  protect  wife,  child,  and 
fatherland.  It  was  mere  love  of  adventure,  ambi- 
tion, justifiable  ambition,  a  delight  in  bravely  do- 
ing one's  duty.  It  was  very  fine  in  him  if  he  must 
go  into  the  field,  and  one  could  still  hope.  This 
and  similar  reasoning  and  lamentation  fill  several 
pages  of  my  note-book.  Louis  Napoleon  is  de- 
nounced as  an  intriguer;  Austria  can  not  endure 
it,  and  war  will  surely  come,  etc.,  etc. 

The  house  was  full  of  officers  excitedly  discuss- 
ing the  situation;  my  father  was  all  fire  and  fury, 
and  his  reminiscences  became  more  diffuse.  The 
vital  question,  namely,  what  would  be  lost  or  won, 
what  every  battle  would  cost  in  untold  sacrifice  of 
blood  and  tears,  was  never  for  one  moment  con- 
sidered. The  fate  of  the  individual  was  so  entirely 
lost  sight  of  in  the  consideration  of  the  so-claimed 
general  interest  that  I  felt  myself  ashamed  of  the 
recurring  thought:  "Ah,  how  will  victory  recom- 
pense the  dead,  the  crippled,  and  the  widowed?" 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  21 

How  would  it  be  if  the  enemy  conquered?  This 
question  I  tremulously  asked  one  evening  of  our 
military  friends  and  was  contemptuously  crushed 
by  their  rejoinder.  Even  the  utterance  of  such  a 
thought,  the  very  shadow  of  a  doubt  was  unpa- 
triotic. It  was  part  of  the  duty  of  a  soldier  to 
believe  himself  invincible.  It  was  also  in  a  certain 
measure  the  duty  of  a  soldier's  wife  to  believe  the 
same. 

My  husband's  regiment  was  quartered  in  Vienna. 
From  our  house  we  had  a  view  of  the  Prater,  and 
when  one  looked  out  of  the  window  summer  seemed 
at  hand.  It  was  a  wonderful  spring.  Earlier  than 
usual  the  foliage  had  come  out,  and  we  looked  for- 
ward with  delight  to  the  drives  in  the  Prater,  which 
it  was  fashionable  to  begin  the  coming  month. 

"Now,  thank  God,  the  uncertainty  is  at  an  end!" 
cried  my  husband,  as  he  returned  after  parade  on 
the  nineteenth  of  April.  "The  ultimatum  has  been 
issued." 

I  trembled.    "  How — what  does  that  mean?" 

"  It  means  that  the  last  word  of  the  diplomatic 
negotiations  has  been  uttered.  Our  ultimatum 
demands  of  Sardinia  that  she  disarm,  which  she  of 
course  will  not  do,  and  we  will  soon  march  over  the 
border." 

"Great  God!     But  perhaps  she  will  disarm." 

"  Then  there  would  be  no  war." 

I  fell  upon  my  knees;  I  could  not  help  it.  Speech- 
less and  yet  almost  with  a  shriek  from  the  depths 
of  my  soul  rose  the  prayer  to  Heaven,  "Peace, 
peace." 

Arno  lifted  me  up. 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  silly  child!  Do  you 
forget  you  are  a  general's  daughter,  a  lieutenant's 
wife  and  " — with  a  laugh — "  a  corporal's  mother." 

"  No,  no,"  I  cried,  "  I  scarcely  know  myself.  I 
know  how  I  used  to  thirst  for  military  glory,  but 
when  you  come  and  tell  me  that  ayes  or  no  decides 
whether  thousands  live  or  die — die  suddenly,cruelly 


22  "GROUND  ARMS'" 

in  these  bright,  sunny,  blessed  days  of  spring,  it 
seems  to  me  all  must  pray  for  peace — must  fall 
upon  their  knees " 

"  In  order  to  inform  the  Lord  all  about  it,  you 
precious  goose!  " 

The  door  bell  rang.  I  hastily  dried  my  tears.  It 
was  my  father  who  came  in  with  a  rush. 

"Now  children,"  he  cried  breathlessly,  "do  you 
want  to  hear  the  news?  " 

"I  have  just  told  my  wife." 

"What  do  you  think,  Father,"  I  asked  anxiously; 
"will  the  war  be  abandoned?" 

"  I  never  heard  that  an  ultimatum  prevented  a 
war.  It  would  certainly  be  very  wise  of  the  miser- 
able Italian  pack  if  they  would  yield  and  run  no 
risk  of  a  second  Novara.  I  can  see  already  how 
our  Lombardy  and  Venetian  territory  can  be  en- 
larged by  a  piece  of  Piedmont.  I  can  see  our 
troops  enter  Turin." 

"  But  really,  Father,  you  talk  as  if  the  war  had 
begun.  Think,  Arno  may  have  to  go." 

"Of  course — he  is  to  be  envied." 

"  But  the  danger — my  anxiety — " 

"Pshaw!  danger!  One  can  come  home  from  war. 
I  have  gone  through  more  than  one  campaign, 
been  wounded  more  than  once,  and  am  still  alive, 
because  I  was  not  predestined  to  die." 

The  same  old  fatalistic  notion! 

"  Should  my  regiment  not  be  ordered  out — 
began  Arno. 

"Is  that  possible,"  I  exclaimed  joyously. 

"  In  that  case  I  shall  apply  for  an  exchange." 

"That  can  soon  be  settled,"  my  father  assured 
him.  "  Hess  is  to  command  the  corps  and  he  is 
a  good  friend  of  mine." 

I  was  sick  with  anxiety,  and  yet  I  could  not  but 
admire  my  husband  and  father.  I  must  control 
myself.  My  husband  was  a  hero.  I  sprang  up 
and  exclaimed:  "Arno,  I  am  proud  of  you!  " 

"  That's  a  brave  wife.  You  have  trained  your 
girl  well,  Father-in-law." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  23 

On  the  twenty-sixth  of  April  war  was  declared 
by  the  rejection  of  the  ultimatum. 

Arno  brought  the  news  home  and  I  could  not 
control  my  despair.  I  threw  myself  upon  the  sofa, 
burying  my  head  in  the  cushions. 

"My  darling,  courage!  Things  are  not  so  bad. 
In  a  short  time  it  will  be  over  and  we  shall  be  hap- 
pier than  ever.  I  could  not  let  my  comrades  go,  and 
remain  at  home.  I  must  pass  through  the  baptism 
of  fire — until  I  do  that  I  scarce  feel  myself  a  man. 
Just  think  how  lovely  it  will  be  if  I  come  home 
with  three  stars  on  my  collar,  perhaps  a  cross  on 
my  breast." 

I  leaned  my  head  on  his  shoulder  and  wept 
unrestrainedly.  At  this  moment  the  cold  glitter  of 
stars  and  crosses  seemed  of  slight  consequence. 
Ten  rewards  of  honor  upon  this  dear  breast  would 
be  no  recompense  for  the  dreaded  possibility  that 
a  bullet  might  shatter  it  forever. 

Arno  kissed  me  on  the  forehead,  put  me  gently 
to  one  side  and  stood  up. 

"  I  must  go  to  the  Colonel  now,  dear  child.  Cry 
yourself  out,  and  when  I  return  I  hope  to  find  you 
in  better  spirits.  I  shall  need  them  to  keep  off 
anxious  presentiments.  Now,  at  such  a  decisive 
moment,  my  own  little  wife  will  do  nothing  to  rob 
me  of  my  courage  nor  hinder  my  return  to  duty. 
Good-by,  my  sweetheart." 

I  endeavored  to  control  myself.  His  last  words 
still  sounded  in  my  ears.  It  was  clear;  not  only 
was  it  my  duty  not  to  depress  his  courage,  but  if 
possible  I  must  incite  his  sense  of  duty.  That  is 
the  only  way  we  women  have  to  show  our  patriot- 
ism and  prove  ourselves  in  sympathy  with  the 
fame  which  they  may  win  on  the  battlefield. 
"Battlefield!" — singular  how  this  word  now  pre- 
sented itself  to  my  mind  with  two  widely  different 
significations.  At  one  moment  with  the  old-fash- 
ioned, historical,  pathetic,  half-wondering  admira- 
tion, then  with  the  shuddering  repulsion  of  the 
bloody,  brutal  syllables,  "  battle."  Yes,  they  would 


24  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

lie  slaughtered  on  the  field,  these  thousands  of 
human  beings  now  urged  into  action — lie  there 
with  open,  bleeding  wounds  —  and  among  them, 
perhaps — with  a  loud  shriek  I  gave  utterance  to 
my  thoughts. 

My  maid,  Betty,  ran  into  the  room,  frightened  at 
the  sound  of  my  cry. 

"  In  God's  name,  Countess,  what  is  the  matter? " 
she  exclaimed  anxiously. 

I  looked  at  the  girl.  Her  eyes  were  red  with 
weeping.  I  remembered  that  her  sweetheart  was 
a  soldier.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  press  this  sister-in- 
misery  to  my  heart. 

"It  is  nothing,  my  child,"  I  said  softly.  "Those 
who  go  out  may  come  back  again." 

"  Not  all  of  them,  dear  Countess;  not  all,"  she 
began  with  a  new  outburst  of  tears. 

My  aunt  came  in  to  comfort  me,  she  said,  and 
to  preach  resignation. 

"  The  whole  town  is  on  fire;  this  war  is  very 
popular." 

"  The  town  rejoice?  "     I  exclaimed. 

"  Certainly,  wherever  no  loved  member  of  the 
family  is  obliged  to  go  there  is  general  rejoicing. 
Your  father  will  be  here  soon  to  congratulate,  not 
condole  with,  you.  He  regards  this  as  a  magnifi- 
cent opportunity  for  Arno.  Upon  the  whole  he  is 
right.  For  a  soldier  there  is  nothing  better  than 
war;  he  must  fulfill  his  destiny.  What  must 
be " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  the  inevitable " 

"  That  which  God  wills,"  continued  Aunt  Marie 
encouragingly. 

"  One  must  accept  with  resignation  and  humil- 
ity." 

"  Bravely  said,  Martha.  All  will  turn  out  as  the 
all-wise  and  beneficent  Providence  has  determined. 
The  hour  of  death  is  settled  for  all  of  us  as  is  the 
hour  of  birth.  And  we  will  pray  so  earnestly  for 
our  dear  soldiers." 

I  was  not  just  then  prepared  to  analyze  the 
contradiction  involved  in  the  two  suggestions: 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  25 

that  death  was  inexorably  determined  and  yet  that 
we  must  pray  that  it  be  averted.  I  had  no  very 
clear  perception,  in  fact  only  a  vague  notion  that 
in  the  treatment  of  such  sacred  themes  one  had 
better  not  ask  too  many  leading  questions,  certainly 
never  appeal  to  the  reason.  It  is  the  highest 
breach  of  theological  etiquette  to  question  the 
rationality  of  any  dogma.  Not  to  think  was  so 
much  more  comfortable  that  I  accepted  the  sug- 
gestion of  intervention  by  prayer.  Yes,  during 
the  whole  absence  of  my  husband  I  prayed  con- 
tinually for  the  protection  of  Heaven,  that  all  bul- 
lets might  be  diverted  from  his  breast.  Diverted! 
In  what  direction?  Toward  the  breast  of  some 
other  man  for  whom  some  other  woman  was  also 
praying?  And  had  I  not  had  it  drilled  into  me 
by  my  tutors  that  any  substance  hurled  at  such 
and  such  a  momentum  would  strike  such  and  such 
an  object?  Again  a  doubt?  It  was  bewildering. 
Away  with  it! 

"Yes,  Aunt,"  I  said  aloud,  rousing  myself  from 
these  contradictions,  "  we  will  pray  diligently  and 
God  will  hear  us.  Arno  will  return  to  us  sound 
and  well." 

"See,  my  child,  how  in  the  hour  of  trial  the  soul 
flees  to  religion  for  comfort.  Perhaps  the  dear 
Lord  sends  this  affliction  to  prove  your  spirit  and 
rouse  your  lukewarm  faith." 

I  was  again  not  very  clear  as  to  how  it  was  pos- 
sible that  all  this  complication  (dating  from  the 
Crimea)  between  Sardinia  and  Austria,  this  out- 
break of  grim  war,  should  have  been  brought  about 
for  the  purpose  of  testing  my  lukewarm  faith.  But 
to  express  such  a  doubt  was  not  decent.  So  soon 
as  the  appeal  to  God  is  made  and  his  name  ap- 
pended to  any  statement,  it  henceforth  receives  a 
certain  sort  of  consecrated  immunity.  In  regard 
to  the  accusation  of  my  indifference  to  sacred 
things  Aunt  Marie  was  right.  She  was  sincerely 
devout.  I  was  not  trained  to  any  such  observance. 
My  father  and  husband  were  indifferent  to  reli- 


26  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

gious  matters,  and  the  exhortations  to  accept  all 
dogma  taught,  without  protest  or  question,  had  not 
suited  my  reasoning  nature.  I  went  every  Sunday 
to  mass  and  once  a  year  to  confession;  at  such 
times  I  was  honestly  devout,  but  the  whole  was  all 
a  matter  of  the  observance  of  ecclesiastical  eti- 
quette, just  as  I  danced  the  lancers  at  a  ball  or 
made  the  conventional  courtesy  when  the  empress 
entered  the  ball-room.  Our  chaplain  in  Lower 
Austria  and  the  nuncio  in  Vienna  had  no  right  to 
reproach  me,  but  the  accusation  of  indifference 
made  by  my  aunt  was  justifiable. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  continued  my  aunt,  "in  days  of 
happiness  and  health  people  forget  their  Saviour; 
but  when  death  or  sorrow  comes  upon  us,  or  our 
own  lives  are  in  danger " 

In  this  style  she  would  have  run  on  forever  had 
not  the  door  been  torn  open  and  my  father,  rushing 
in,  exclaimed: 

"Hurrah!  it  is  decided.  They  want  a  good 
thrashing,  the  rascals — now  they  will  get  it." 

It  was  a  trying  time.  War  had  broken  out.  One 
forgets  that  there  are  but  two  antagonistic  forces, 
and  people  talk  as  if  there  were  some  mighty  third 
party  which  set  these  two  at  each  other's  throats. 
Hence  the  whole  responsibility  is  thrown  upon  this 
mysterious  force  which  regulates  the  fate  of  peo- 
ples. Of  a  revolt  against  war  as  a  system  there 
was  at  this  period  of  my  life  no  trace ;  I  only 
suffered  because  my  beloved  husband  was  forced 
to  go  and  I  to  remain  at  home.  I  dragged  again 
to  light  for  consolation  all  my  old  carefully  culti- 
vated convictions  as  to  the  highest  duty  of  a  sol- 
dier being  a  readiness  for  service  and  a  laudable 
desire  for  honor  and  glory.  I  lived  now  in  a  stir- 
ring epoch.  This  was  an  inspiriting  reflection. 
Since  times  of  war,  from  the  days  of  Herodotus 
and  Tacitus  down  to  modern  historians,  had  been 
treated  as  the  most  important  in  the  development 
of  man,  I  consoled  myself  with  the  idea  of  forming 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  27 

part  and  parcel  of  one  of  the  landmarks  of  history. 
This  conception  of  war  was  the  general  one.  Noth- 
ing else  was  talked  of  on  the  streets  or  in  the  par- 
lor; we  read  nothing  else  in  the  newspapers;  we 
prayed  for  nothing  in  the  churches  save  the  suc- 
cess of  our  armies;  wherever  we  went  earnest  faces 
and  excited  voices  showed  that  people  had  no 
thought  for  other  matters.  Business,  amusement, 
art — all  were  but  secondary  affairs.  It  seemed  at 
times  as  if  we  had  scarce  the  right  to  think  of 
anything  else  while  this  great  struggle  over  the 
world's  fate  hung  in  the  balance.  The  frequent 
proclamations  couched  in  the  well-known  phrases 
confident  of  victory  and  prophesying  national  re- 
nown; the  glitter  and  clash  of  arms  and  waving  of 
battle  flags  as  the  troops  marched  through;  the 
stirring  public  orations  and  newspaper  articles 
glowing  with  patriotic  ardor,  this  eternal  appeal 
to  virtue,  honor,  duty,  courage,  sacrifice;  the  re- 
curring assurances  of  the  unconquerable  justice  of 
our  cause,  defended  by  the  noblest  and  best  of 
nations.  All  these  established  a  sort  of  heroic 
atmosphere,  which  filled  the  whole  people  with 
enthusiasm  and  roused  a  general  conviction  of  our 
being  the  noblest  citizens  of  the  noblest  of  times. 

Evil  passions,  such  as  thirst  for  conquest,  braw- 
ling, rapine,  cruelty,  all  iniquity  were  regarded  as 
a  necessary  adjunct,  but  of  course  these  offenses 
were  perpetrated  only  by  the  enemy,  whose  vil- 
lainy all  the  world  must  acknowledge.  Conse- 
quently, quite  aside  from  the  justice  of  our  cause, 
we  would  do  the  world  a  service  by  properly  pun- 
ishing the  perpetrators  of  all  these  wrongs.  These 
wretched  Italians — what  a  lazy,  vicious,  treacher- 
ous, volatile,  and  upstart  nation!  and  this  Louis 
Napoleon — what  a  combination  of  intrigue  and  in- 
ordinate ambition!  When  on  the  twenty-ninth  of 
April  his  famous  proclamation  appeared  with  the 
motto  :  "  Italy  shall  be  free  to  the  Adriatic,"  what 
a  storm  of  indignation  was  roused  in  Vienna. 

I  imprudently  allowed  myself  to  assert  that  it 
seemed  to  me  this  was  an  unselfish  and  noble  idea, 


28  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

but  was  quickly  brought  to  my  senses  by  enthusi- 
astic patriots,  who,  so  long  as  Louis  Napoleon  was 
our  enemy,  could  see  no  jot  or  tittle  of  good  in 
him.  But  a  faint  doubt  arose  in  my  mind.  In  all 
historical  accounts  of  wars  I  had  always  found  the 
admiration  and  sympathy  of  the  writer  on  the  side 
of  that  party  struggling  to  throw  off  a  foreign  yoke 
and  battling  for  national  independence.  Possibly 
I  knew  not  the  right  interpretation  of  the  terms 
"yoke"  and  "freedom,"  for  otherwise  I  could  not  but 
see  that  Italy,  not  Austria,  was  the  one  struggling 
to  these  ends.  But  my  feeble  protestations  were 
scowlingly  received  and  I  was  given  distinctly  to 
understand  that  our  government — that  is,  the  gov- 
ernment under  which  we  chanced  to  live — could 
never  impose  a  yoke  upon  a  people,  its  supremacy 
could  not  but  be  a  blessing;  that  those  seeking  to 
assert  their  independence  of  us,  and  demanding 
their  freedom,  were  always  "  rebels,"  and  that,  in 
short,  we,  and  only  we,  were  always  in  the  right. 

Early  in  May — they  were  cold  and  rainy  days 
fortunately  ;  sunny,  joyous  spring  weather  would 
have  made  a  more  painful  contrast — Arno's  regi- 
ment was  ordered  into  the  field.  In  the  morning 
at  seven  o'clock  he  was  due  at  the  station.  Ah! 
that  night  before — that  dreadful  night!  Parting 
in  such  sorrow,  and  war  so  terrible. 

Arno  had  fallen  asleep.  Breathing  quietly  he 
lay  there  with  a  smiling  face.  I  lit  a  fresh  candle 
and  set  it  behind  a  screen.  I  could  not  endure 
darkness.  For  me,  on  this  last  night,  sleep  was 
impossible.  Throwing  on  a  wrapper  I  lay  quietly 
beside  him,  and  with  one  elbow  supporting  my 
head  watched  him,  weeping  quietly  the  while.  I 
dared  not  stir,  sleep  was  so  necessary  for  him.  For 
six  hours  I  still  had  him. 

Ah!  six  o'clock.  The  orderly  tapped  on  the 
door. 

Arno  instantly  rose  and  dressed  himself  rapidly, 
cheering  me  up  with  all  manner  of  hopeful  words. 

"  Courage,  Martha!  It  will  all  be  over  in  two 
months  and  I  shall  be  safe  at  home  again.  Nonsense! 


"GROUND  A  RMS  I"  29 

out  of  a  thousand  bullets  only  one  hits  the  mark. 
Other  men  have  returned  from  war — there  is  your 
father.  It  had  to  be.  You  did  not  marry  a  Hus- 
sar to  cultivate  hyacinths  for  you.  I  will  write  as 
often  as  possible  and  report  what  a  jolly  campaign 
it  is.  If  anything  were  going  to  happen  to  me  I 
could  not  be  so  cheerful.  I  am  going  to  win  a 
decoration,  that  is  all.  Take  care  of  yourself  and 
Rudolph.  It  will  be  something  for  him  to  hear  his 
father  talk  about  the  war  of  '59." 

Again  the  orderly  tapped  on  the  door. 

"Good-by,  my  wife" — his  voice  broke — a  kiss, 
the  very  last,  and  he  was  gone. 

To  scrape  lint,  read  newspaper  reports,  and  stick 
pins  fastened  rfo  little  flags  on  maps  of  the  seat  of 
war,  in  order  to  locate  the  movements  of  both  ar- 
mies, as  if  it  were  a  game  of  chess  where  Austria 
was  expected  to  say,  "In  four  moves  checkmate"; 
to  go  to  church  daily  to  pray  for  the  success  and 
safety  of  our  side — such  was  the  entire  occupation 
of  all  of  us.  We  ate,  drank,  and  read;  attended  to 
necessary  business;  but  all  in  a  perfunctory  man- 
ner. Nothing  was  of  any  consequence  save  the 
despatches  from  Italy.  The  only  gleam  of  light 
was  when  I  received  letters  from  Arno.  These  were 
always  short — he  was  not  given  to  letter  writing — 
but  they  brought  me  the  happy  assurance  of  his 
safety.  Necessarily  these  letters  were  irregular; 
communication  was  sometimes  cut  off,  and  at  the 
approach  of  action  mails  were  forbidden.  When 
several  days  passed  without  hearing  from  him  I 
suffered  the  deepest  anxiety.  After  a  battle  I  read 
the  list  of  killed  with  the  greatest  apprehension. 
The  first  time  I  looked  through  the  list — I  had 
heard  nothing  for  days — when  I  saw  that  the  name 
of  Arno  Dotzky  was  not  there,  I  folded  my  hands 
and  softly  prayed,  "  My  God,  I  thank  thee."  Scarce 
had  I  uttered  the  words  when  a  shrill  dissonance 
struck  me  to  the  heart.  I  took  up  the  list  again. 
Ah!  because  Adolph  Schmidt  and  Karl  Miiller  and 


30  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

many,  many  others — but  not  Arno  Dotzky — re- 
mained upon  the  field,  I  thanked  God.  Certainly, 
those  who  trembled  for  Adolph  Schmidt  or  Karl 
Miiller  would  also  thank  God,  should  they  read 
Arno  Dotzky  instead  of  the  name  they  dreaded  to 
find.  And  why  should  my  thanks  be  more  grate- 
ful to  Heaven  than  theirs?  Yes,  that  was  the  shrill 
dissonance  of  my  prayer:  the  selfishness  and  arro- 
gance which  lay  therein  and  could  cause  me  to 
thank  God  that  I  was  spared,  when  Schmidt's 
mother  and  Miiller's  wife,  reading  the  list,  wept 
out  their  breaking  hearts. 

On  the  same  day  I  again  heard  from  Arno: 

"Yesterday  we  had  another  serious  engagement,  unfor- 
tunately again  a  defeat.  But  cheer  up,  Sweetheart,  the 
next  time  we  will  assuredly  win  the  battle.1  This  was  my 
first  great  affair.  I  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  thick  shower 
of  bullets — a  singular  feeling;  I  will  tell  you  about  it 
when  we  meet;  it  is  frightful.  The  poor  fellows  fall  all 
around  us,  and  we  must  leave  them  despite  their  piteous 
entreaties.  When  we  enter  Turin,  to  dictate  terms  of 
peace,  you  can  meet  me  there.  Aunt  Marie  can  take 
care  of  little  Rudolph  until  your  return." 

If  the  arrival  of  such  letters  formed  the  sunlight 
of  my  existence,  the  blackest  shadows  settled  down 
upon  my  nights.  When  I  awoke  from  the  blessed 
forgetfulness  of  dreamless  sleep  the  fearful  reality 
with  the  more  fearful  possibility  forbade  my  again 
closing  my  eyes.  I  could  not  overcome  the  dread 
that  Arno  might  at  that  moment  be  dying  in  a 
ditch — longing,  longing  for  a  drop  of  water  and 
calling  despairingly  on  me.  I  could  not  free  my- 
self from  this  idea  until  with  a  wrench  to  recover 
my  self-control  I  succeeded  in  imagining  his  happy 
return.  Was  not  this  as  probable  as  his  death? 

My  father  was  sadly  depressed.  One  bad  report 
followed  another.  First  Montebello,  then  Magenta. 
Not  he  alone,  all  Vienna  was  disheartened.  Every 
one  had  been  so  certain  of  victory  that  they  already 
talked  of  decorating  the  houses  with  flags  and  of 
singing  Te  Deums  in  the  churches.  Instead  of  this 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  31 

they  were  waving  flags  and  the  priests  were  chant- 
ing Te  Deums  in  Turin.  There  they  were  thank- 
ing God  that  he  had  helped  them  defeat  the  odi- 
ous Austrians. 

"  Father,  in  case  of  another  defeat  do  you  not 
think  that  peace  would  be  declared?"  I  asked  him 
one  day. 

"Are  you  not  ashamed  to  suggest  such  a  thing," 
he  exclaimed.  "  It  had  far  better  be  a  seven,  nay, 
a  thirty  years'  war.  We  must  fight  until  we  can 
dictate  terms  and  compel  them  to  lay  down  their 
arms.  What  do  we  go  to  war  for  if  we  have  to  end 
it  as  soon  as  possible  ?  In  that  case  we  had  better 
stay  at  home." 

"  I  think  so  myself,"  I  sighed. 

"  What  cowards  women  are!  Why,  you  were  well 
grounded  in  patriotism,  and  now  you  value  your 
personal  quiet  more  than  the  welfare  and  honor 
of  your  country." 

"Yes,  because  I  love  my  Arno  better." 

"  Family  love — wedded  love — that  is  all  very  fine, 
but  it  takes  second  rank." 

"Should  it?" 

The  list  of  fatalities  contained  the  names  of 
several  officers  personally  known  to  me.  Among 
others  that  of  the  son — the  only  son — of  an  old  lady 
I  greatly  respected.  I  felt  as  if  I  must  go  to  her. 
Comfort  her  I  could  not — at  the  most  I  could  but 
weep  with  her.  When  I  arrived  at  her  house  I 
hesitated  before  I  rang  the  bell.  The  last  time  I 
had  been  there  it  was  at  a  merry  dancing  party. 
That  night  the  dignified,  charming  old  lady  had 
said  to  me:  "Martha,  we  are  the  most  enviable 
women  in  Vienna.  You  have  the  handsomest  hus- 
band and  I  the  noblest  son."  And  to-day?  Have 
I  still  a  husband — who  knows?  Shot  and  shell 
were  flying  even  then,  and  at  any  moment  I  might 
be  a  widow.  I  rang  the  bell.  No  one  answered, 
but  the  door  of  an  adjoining  apartment  opened. 


32  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  You  will  ring  in  vain,  Madam — the  house  is 
empty." 

"  Where  is  Frau  von  Ullsman?  " 

"  She  was  taken  to  the  insane  asylum  three  days 
ago." 

For  a  few  moments  I  stood  motionless  and  pict- 
ured the  scenes  which  must  have  preceded  the 
time  when  madness  followed  agony.  And  my 
father  would  have  war  last  thirty  years — for  the 
good  of  the  country!  How  many  mothers  would 
lose  the  light  of  reason? 

Deeply  moved  I  descended  the  steps  meaningto 
visit  a  young  friend  whose  husband  was  also  at  the 
seat  of  war.  I  passed  the  building  used  as  a  store- 
house by  the  patriotic  Relief  Corps.  At  that  time 
there  was  no  Red  Cross  service,  and  this  humane  in- 
stitution had  been  organized  to  distribute  all  needed 
supplies,  which  the  people  eagerly  offered  for  the 
sick  and  wounded.  I  entered;  I  felt  impelled  to 
offer  the  money  in  my  purse  to  the  committee.  It 
might  save  some  poor  fellow — and  keep  his  mother 
from  the  madhouse.  I  knew  the  president.  "  Can 
I  see  Prince  C ,"  I  asked. 

"  He  is  not  in  at  present,  but  the  vice-president, 
Baron  L ,  is  here." 

The  man  pointed  the  way  to  the  office  where 
all  money  contributions  were  received.  I  passed 
through  several  rooms  where  upon  long  tables 
were  piled  up  packages  of  linen,  cigars,  tobacco, 
and  wines — but  mostly  mountains  of  bandages.  I 
shuddered.  How  many  wounds  must  bleed  to 
need  all  those  rolls.  "  And  my  father,"  I  thought 
again,  "would  for  the  good  of  the  country  have 
this  war  last  thirty  years.  How  many  defenders 
of  their  country  would  survive  their  wounds?" 

Baron  L received  my  money  thankfully  and 

gave  me  much  information  in  regard  to  the  practi- 
cal service  of  the  relief  corps.  An  old  gentleman 
entered  and,  sinking  upon  a  chair,  drew  out  his 
purse,  from  which  he  took  a  hundred-florin  bill. 

"Allow  me,"  he  said,  "to  give  my  little  toward 
your  noble  work.  I  am  an  old  soldier  (Field  Mar- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  33 

shal-Lieut.  X ,  introducing  himself)  and  know 

its  value.  I  served  in  the  campaigns  of  1809-1813 
and  at  that  time  we  had  no  patriotic  relief  corps; 
no  one  sent  the  wounded  pillows  and  bandages. 
The  insufficient  supplies  of  the  surgeons  could  not 
prevent  thousands  from  suffering  a  hideous  death. 
It  is  a  philanthropic,  humane  work,  and  you  can 
scarce  realize  the  good  you  do."  And  the  old  man 
went  away  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

A  commotion  outside  was  explained  by  the  an- 
nouncement: "Her  majesty,  the  Empress!" 

I  looked  from  my  quiet  corner  at  the  beautiful 
face  of  our  youthful  sovereign,  who  in  her  simple 
walking  costume  was  even  more  charming  than  in 
the  full  dress  of  court  balls. 

"I  have  come,"  she  gently  said  to  Baron  L , 

"  because  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  the 
Emperor,  who  desired  me  to  visit  the  Relief  Corps 
and  assure  you  of  the  great  good  your  supplies  are 
doing  at  the  seat  of  war." 

With  lively  interest  she  went  through  the  build- 
ing examining  the  supplies.  She  took  up  a  roll  of 
linen.  "  See  how  fine  it  is,  and  how  beautifully 
sewed,"  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  a  noble,  patriotic 
undertaking  which  the  poor  soldiers " 

I  did  not  understand  the  rest.  "  Poor  soldiers  " 
The  words  sounded  deeply  sympathetic.  Poor 
indeed,  and  the  more  supplies  we  could  send  them 
the  better.  But  it  came  into  my  head  to  doubt  the 
necessity  of  sending  the  poor  fellows  out  to  endure 
all  this  suffering.  Why  not  keep  them  at  home? 
I  drove  away  the  thought.  We  sent  them  because 
we  must.  Other  excuse  there  is  none  for  the  hor- 
rors of  war  than  this — it  must  be. 

I  went  on  my  way.  In  passing  a  book-store  I 
remembered  that  our  map  of  the  seat  of  war  was 
worn  to  tatters.  A  number  of  people  were  there, 
all  demanding  the  same  thing.  When  my  turn 
came  the  proprietor  asked:  "A  map,  Madam?" 

"You  have  guessed  right." 

"That  is  easy  enough;  people  buy  nothing  else 
nowadays." 


34  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

While  wrapping  it  up  he  remarked  to  a  gentle- 
man standing  near: 

"  It  is  a  hard  time  for  the  authors  of  literary  or 
scientific  works,  Professor.  So  long  as  the  war 
lasts  no  one  is  in  the  least  interested  in  anything 
else." 

"And  a  bad  time  for  the  nation,"  replied  the 
Professor.  "  It  results  in  intellectual  degenera- 
tion." 

"And  my  father,"  thought  I  for  the  third  time, 
"  for  the  good  of  the  country,  would  have  the  war 
last  thirty  years." 

"So  your  business  is  bad?"  I  asked. 

"  Not  mine  alone.  Everything  is  at  a  standstill. 
With  the  exception  of  the  army  contractors  there 
is  no  class  of  business  men  which  the  war  does  not 
injure  enormously.  Manufacturers  fail  and  factory 
hands  are  out  of  employment;  there  are  not  enough 
laborers  for  the  farms;  large  numbers  of  human 
beings  are  out  of  work  and  starving.  Stocks  fall, 
gold  rises,  all  enterprise  is  stifled,  numerous  firms 
go  into  bankruptcy;  in  short,  it  is  misery — nothing 
but  misery." 

"And  my  father,"  I  repeated  to  myself  as  I  left 
the  book-store. 

I  found  my  friend  at  home.  Countess  Lori  Gries- 
bach  was  in  more  than  one  sense  the  sharer  of  the 
same  fate  as  mine.  She  was  also  a  general's  daugh- 
ter, had  married  an  officer  a  short  time  before,  and 
her  husband  as  well  as  two  brothers  was  in  the 
service.  But  Lori  was  not  of  an  anxious  nature. 
She  was  firmly  convinced  that  these  members  of 
her  family  were  all  under  the  special  protection  of 
the  saints,  and  she  confidently  reckoned  upon  their 
return.  She  received  me  with  open  arms. 

"Ah,  how  lovely  of  you  to  come!  But  you  look 
pale  and  worried.  Any  bad  news  from  the  seat  of 
war? " 

"  No,  thank  God.  But  the  whole  thing  is  so  ter- 
rible  " 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  35 

"  Oh,  you  mean  the  defeat?  That  doesn't  amount 
to  anything;  the  next  report  will  be  of  a  victory." 

"  Defeat  or  victory,  war  is  horrible.  How  much 
better  it  would  be  if  we  had  no  war." 

"  Mercy  on  us!  What  would  become  of  the  mili- 
tary profession?" 

"Why,  we  should  not  need  any." 

"  How  can  anybody  be  so  silly!  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  That  would  be  a  fine  sort  of  life — nobody  but 
civilians.  I  shudder  at  the  thought.  Fortunately 
it  is  impossible." 

"Impossible!  Well,  it  may  be.  But  I  could  im- 
agine it  as  possible." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  The  disbanding  of  armies.  But  no,  one  might 
as  well  expect  to  prevent  earthquakes." 

"  I  cannot  make  out  what  you  are  talking  about. 
So  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  was  rejoiced  when  this 
war  broke  out  in  order  that  my  Louis  might  have 
the  chance  to  distinguish  himself.  It  is  a  good 
thing  for  my  brothers  also.  Promotions  are  so  slow 
in  times  of  peace.  Now  they  will  have  a " 

"Have  you  heard  from  them  recently?"  I  inter- 
rupted. 

"  Not  very  long  since.  But  you  know  how  un- 
certain the  post  is,  and  after  an  engagement  they 
are  so  tired,  they  do  not  feel  like  letter-writing. 
But  I  am  satisfied.  Louis  and  my  brothers  wear 
consecrated  amulets.  Mamma  hung  them  round 
their  necks  herself." 

"  How  can  you  imagine  a  war  where  every  man 
on  each  side  wears  an  amulet,  Lori?  When  the 
bullets  fly  here  and  there  are  they  going  to  be 
diverted  to  the  clouds?" 

"  I  never  understand  you,  Martha;  you  are  so 
lukewarm  in  your  faith.  Your  Aunt  Marie  com- 
plains greatly  of  you." 

"Why  do  you  not  answer  my  question?" 

"  Because  you  are  deriding  what  is  sacred  to  me." 

"Derision!  not  at  all.  Simply  a  reasonable  sug- 
gestion." 


36  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

11  You  know  very  well  that  it  is  a  sin  to  trust  to 
private  judgment  in  things  too  sacred  for  us  to 
discuss." 

"  I  will  be  quiet,  Lori.  You  may  be  right.  Rea- 
son and  logic  are  dangerous.  All  sorts  of  doubts 
arise  in  me,  and  I  suffer  torment  in  trying  to  solve 
them.  If  I  lost  the  conviction  that  it  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  begin  this  war,  I  could  not  for- 
give the  one  who " 

"You  mean  Louis  Napoleon?  He  is  certainly  an 
intriguer." 

"  Whoever  it  is,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  it 
is  no  human  being  who  causes  war,  but  that  it 
breaks  out  of  itself,  like  a  nervous  fever  or  an 
eruption  of  Vesuvius." 

"What  a  state  of  mind  you  are  in.  Let  us  talk 
sensibly.  Listen  to  me.  The  campaign  will  soon 
be  over,  and  our  two  husbands  will  come  back  cap- 
tains. I  shall  not  give  mine  any  peace  until  he 
gets  a  leave  of  absence  and  takes  me  to  a  watering 
place.  It  will  do  him  good  after  all  the  privations 
he  has  undergone,  and  me  also;  for  this  heat,  this 
dullness,  and  this  anxiety  are  wearing  me  out.  For 
you  must  not  think  I  have  no  anxiety.  If  it  is 
God's  will  that  my  husband  should  die — what  is 
more  noble,  more  enviable  than  a  gallant  soldier's 
death,  on  the  field  of  honor,  for  God  and  country?" 

"You  talk  like  the  latest  army  proclamation." 

"Well,  it  would  be  dreadful  for  poor  Mamma  to 
lose  Gustav  or  Carl.  But  we  will  not  talk  about 
it.  As  I  was  saying,  we  will  have  an  amusing  sea- 
son— I  think  in  Carlsbad.  I  was  there  once  when 
I  was  a  girl,  and  had  a  glorious  time." 

"And  I  was  at  Marienbad.  There  I  met  my 
Arno.  But  why  are  we  sitting  here  idle  ?  Get 
some  linen  and  let  us  make  bandages.  I  have  just 
come  from  the  warehouse  of  the  Patriotic  Relief 
Corps " 

We  were  here  interrupted.  A  servant  brought  in 
a  letter. 

"  From  Gustav! "  cried  Lori  joyfully.  After  read- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  37 

ing  a  few  lines  she  threw  down  the  letter  with  an 
outburst  of  tears. 

"  Lori — dear  heart,  what  is  it? "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Read,"  she  gasped. 

I  lifted  the  letter  from  the  floor  and  began  to 
read.  I  can  remember  every  word  to  this  day,  as 
I  afterwards  borrowed  it  to  copy  in  my  diary. 

"Read  aloud,"  she  begged,  "I  could  not  finish." 

"  DEAR  SISTER: 

Yesterday  we  had  a  severe  engagement.  There 
will  be  a  tremendous  list  of  dead  and  wounded.  In  order 
that  you  may  prepare  our  poor  mother,  tell  her  that  he 
is  severely  wounded,  but  the  truth  is  our  brave  Carl  died 
for  his  country." 

I  stopped  to  embrace  my  friend  and  then  con- 
tinued, tears  choking  my  voice. 

"  Your  husband  is  safe  as  well  as  myself.  If  the  ene- 
my's ball  had  only  struck  me.  I  envy  Carl  his  heroic 
death;  he  fell  at  the  beginning  of  the  battle  and  is  saved 
the  knowledge  that  it  was  a  defeat.  That  is  the  bitter 
part.  I  saw  him  fall,  for  we  rode  close  together.  I 
sprang  off  to  raise  him — a  glance  and  I  saw  he  was  dead. 
The  ball  must  have  gone  through  the  heart  or  lungs;  it 
was  a  quick,  painless  death.  How  many  others  lay  help- 
less and  suffering  untold  agony  throughout  the  battle 
before  death  released  them.  It  was  a  fearful  day;  more 
than  a  thousand  bodies — friend  and  foe — covered  the 
field.  I  found  among  the  dead  so  many  dear,  well-known 
faces.  Among  others  poor  Arno  Dotzky." 

I  fell  insensible  to  the  floor. 

"  It  is  all  over,  Martha!  Solferino  has  decided  it. 
We  are  beaten." 

With  these  words  my  father  came  to  the  corner 
of  the  garden  where  I  was  sitting,  under  the  shadow 
of  a  linden. 

I  had  gone  back  with  my  little  Rudolph  to  the 
home  of  my  girlhood.  Eight  days  after  the  blow 
which  left  me  a  widow  I  returned  with  my  family 
to  Grumitz,  our  estate  in  Lower  Austria.  All 
were  with  me  as  before  my  marriage:  father, 


38  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

aunt,  my  little  brother,  and  two  half-grown  sisters. 
Everything  was  done  to  mitigate  my  grief  and  all 
treated  me  with  a  reverential  sympathy  which 
touched  my  heart.  Next  to  the  blood  poured  out 
by  the  soldiers  upon  the  altar  of  their  country  the 
tears  of  soldiers'  mothers,  wives,  and  children  are 
the  holiest  libation.  There  was  also  a  certain 
pride  in  the  knowledge  which  remained  to  comfort 
me  of  the  conventional,  heroic  dignity  which  at- 
taches to  all  who  die  upon  the  field  of  honor. 

Particulars  as  to  Arno's  death  I  had  never  been 
able  to  obtain.  They  had  found,  recognized,  and 
buried  him — that  was  all.  His  last  thought  was 
certainly  of  me  and  our  little  child,  and  his  conso- 
lation in  his  last  moments  must  have  been:  "  I  have 
done,  more  than  done,  my  duty." 

"  We  are  beaten,"  repeated  my  father,  seating 
himself  on  the  bench  at  my  side. 

"And  the  victims  were  sacrificed  needlessly"  I 
sighed. 

"The  victims  are  to  be  envied,  for  they  do  not 
know  the  disgrace  of  their  country.  But  we  will 
soon  gather  ourselves  together,  if,  as  it  appears, 
peace  is  concluded." 

"Ah,  God  grant  it!  "  I  interrupted  him.  "  Forme 
it  is  too  late,  but  what  may  it  not  spare  thousands 
of  others." 

"  You  think  of  nothing  but  of  yourself  and  pri- 
vate individuals.  But  this  is  a  matter  for  Austria." 

"  Well,  does  not  Austria  consist  of  individual 
human  beings." 

"  My  child,  an  empire,  a  state,  has  a  longer  and 
more  important  existence  than  individuals.  These 
disappear,  generation  after  generation,  while  the 
empire  develops  farther,  grows  in  fame,  extent, 
and  power,  or  sinks,  dwindles,  and  disappears,  if  it 
allows  other  states  to  surpass  it.  Therefore  it  is 
most  important,  and  the  highest  duty  of  each  in- 
dividual, to  strive,  surfer,  and  even  die  that  the 
greatness,  the  extent,  the  welfare  of  the  state  shall 
survive  and  increase." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  •  39 

These  instructive  words  I  impressed  upon  my 
mind,  in  order  that  I  might  write  them  down  in  my 
note-book.  They  sounded  to  me  curiously  like 
what  I  used  to  read  in  my  school  books,  words 
which  in  my  anxiety  and  sorrow  I  had  'forgotten; 
and  I  determined  to  hug  them  to  my  heart  for  the 
comfort  and  consolation  they  would  give  me  when 
I  reflected  that  in  the  loss  of  my  husband  I  had 
done  my  share  toward  this  important  matter. 

Aunt  Marie  had  also  other  grounds  for  conso- 
lation to  offer  me.  "  Do  not  weep,  dear  child," 
she  was  accustomed  to  say,  when  she  found  me 
sunk  in  profound  grief.  "  Do  not  be  so  selfish  as 
to  mourn  for  the  one  who  is  now  so  much  better 
off.  He  is  among  the  saints,  and  looks  down  and 
blesses  you.  Only  a  few  fleeting  years  and  you 
will  meet  him  again  in  glory.  For  those  who  die 
on  the  field  of  battle  heaven  has  prepared  a  special 
abiding  place.  Happy  are  they  who,  when  per- 
forming a  sacred  duty,  are  called  to  its  enjoyment. 
Next  in  desert  to  the  dying  martyr  comes  the 
dying  soldier." 

"  So  I  am  to  rejoice  that  Arno " 

"Rejoice;  no — that  is  too  much  to  expect.  But 
endure  your  fate  with  resignation.  Heaven  has 
sent  it  as  a  trial  to  purify  your  heart  and  increase 
your  faith." 

"  So  in  order  to  purify  my  heart  and  increase  my 
faith  Arno " 

"  No,  no;  but  who  can,  who  dare  attempt  to  com- 
prehend the  mysterious  ways  of  Providence  ?" 

Although  Aunt  Marie's  consolation  was  rather 
distracting,  I  managed  to  accept  the  somewhat 
mystical  conception,  and  endeavored  to  believe 
that  my  dear  victim  enjoyed  in  heaven  the  reward 
of  his  sacrifice,  and  that  his  memory  among  men 
was  kept  alive  by  the  glorified  heroism  of  his 
death. 

The  day  before  our  departure  from  Vienna  I 
was  present  at  the  services  at  St.  Stephens  in  honor 
of  the  dead.  The  De  Profundis  was  sung  for  all 


40  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

who  had  fallen  and  lay  buried  in  a  foreign  land. 
In  the  middle  of  the  church  a  large  catafalque  had 
been  erected,  surrounded  by  hundreds  of  burning 
candles  and  decorated  with  military  emblems,  flags, 
guns,  and  side  arms.  The  choir  sang  the  grand, 
pathetic  requiem,  and  the  congregation — mostly 
women  clothed  in  mourning — wept  aloud.  And 
each  one  wept,  not  for  her  own  alone,  but  for  all 
who  had  met  the  same  fate.  They  had  all,  these 
poor,  brave  brothers,  given  up  their  young  lives  for 
us,  that  is,  for  their  country  and  the  honor  of  the 
nation.  And  the  living  soldiers  who  stood  in  the 
background,  from  several  regiments  remaining  in 
Vienna,  were  ready  and  willing,  without  hesitation, 
without  complaint,  without  fear,  to  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  their  comrades.  Yes,  these  clouds  of 
incense,  these  swelling  organ-tones,  these  humble 
petitions,  these  blinding  tears  must  have  risen  to  a 
well-pleased  Heaven,  and  the  God  of  Battles  must 
have  dropped  down  his  blessing  upon  the  graves  of 
those  for  whom  this  catafalque  was  erected. 

At  least  that  is  what  I  thought  at  that  time  and 
wrote  in  my  journal. 

Fourteen  days  after  the  report  of  the  defeat 
of  Solferina  came  the  news  of  the  peace  of  Villa 
Franca.  My  father  took  all  manner  of  pains  to 
explain  to  me  how  necessary  for  political  reasons 
this  peace  had  become,  whereupon  I  assured  him 
that  for  my  part  I  was  satisfied  to  see  an  end  of  all 
this  fighting  and  dying. 

"You  must  not  think  for  one  instant,"  he  con- 
tinued, "that  in  making  peace  we  compromise  our 
own  dignity.  It  was  not  Solferino  which  com- 
pelled us,  but  far  more  important  considerations. 
We  refrain  now  in  order  to  protect  later  other  prov- 
inces ruled  by  branches  of  our  imperial  house. 
This  Sardinian  robber-captain,  aided  by  this  mis- 
erable French  intriguer,  may  venture  to  attack 
other  portions  of  Italy.  They  will  move  against 
Modenaand  Tuscany,  and  probably  will  even  fall 
upon  Rome  and  the  Pope — the  vandals!  If  we  now 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  41 

surrender  Lombardy  we  still  retain  Venice,  and  can 
protect  the  South  Italian  States  and  the  Holy  See. 
You  can  comprehend,  therefore,  that  for  purely 
political  reasons  it  is  now  our  wisest  course  to  make 
peace " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  interrupted  him,  "  I  understand  it 
all.  It  is  a  pity  they  had  not  thought  of  this  before 
Magenta,"  I  sighed  heavily.  Then,  to  change  the 
conversation,  I  directed  his  attention  to  a  package 
of  books  just  arrived  from  Vienna. 

"  See  here,  the  bookseller  sends  us  among  other 
things  a  work  which  he  recommends  as  marking 
an  epoch  in  modern  thought.  It  is  the  work  of  an 
English  scientist  named  Darwin,  '  The  Origin  of 
Species.'" 

"He  can  just  let  me  alone,"  my  father  replied. 
"Who  wants,  in  such  stirring  times  as  these,  to 
bother  one's  self  about  such  rubbish?  How  can  a 
book  about  the  origin  of  plant  and  animal  life  mark 
an  epoch?  Yes,  the  confederation  of  the  Italian 
States,  the  consolidation  of  Austria — they  are  epoch- 
marking  matters.  They  will  live  in  history  long 
after  this  English  book  has  been  forgotten.  Re- 
member that." 

I  have  remembered  it. 


42  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

SECOND  BOOK. 

TIME  OF  PEACE. 

FOUR  years  have  passed.  My  sisters — now  seven- 
teen and  eighteen  years  of  age — were  to  be  pre- 
sented at  court.  I  determined  to  take  the  oppor- 
tunity of  returning  to  the  great  world  of  society. 

Intervening  time  had  done  its  work  and  had  tem- 
pered my  grief.  Despair  was  followed  by  sorrow, 
sorrow  by  melancholy,  melancholy  by  listlessness, 
and  this  in  turn  by  a  renewed  interest  in  life.  I 
awoke  one  morning  to  the  consciousness  that  I  was 
actually  in  a  position  to  be  envied.  I  was  twenty- 
three,  handsome,  rich,  the  mother  of  a  charming 
boy  and  one  of  an  affectionate  family.  Were  these 
not  conditions  sufficient  to  make  life  enjoyable? 

The  short  year  of  my  married  life  lay  behind  me 
like  a  dream.  I  had  dearly  loved  my  handsome 
Hussar,  his  devotion  had  made  me  very  happy,  the 
separation  had  caused  me  great  sorrow,  his  loss 
profound  grief;  but  it  was  all  in  the  shadowy  past. 
Our  life  together  had  been  too  short  for  the  growth 
of  a  close  sympathy.  We  had  worshipped  each 
other  like  a  pair  of  fiery  lovers,  but  we  had  known 
nothing  of  that  mutual  respect  and  friendship  which 
is  felt  by  those  husbands  and  wives  who  for  long 
years  have  shared  joy  and  sorrow.  I  had  not  been 
indispensable  to  him,  for  in  that  case  he  would 
never  have  felt  impelled  to  go  into  the  field,  as  his 
own  regiment  had  not  left  Vienna.  In  the  four 
years  I  had  gradually  developed  into  a  different 
being;  my  intellectual  horizon  had  greatly  broad- 
ened, and  I  had  attained  a  degree  of  knowledge  and 
its  attendant  culture  with  which  I  felt  sure  Arno 
would  have  been  little  in  sympathy. 

How  had  this  change  been  brought  about? 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  43 

A  year  of  my  widowhood  had  passed  and  despair 
— first  phase — had  merged  into  a  deep,  depressing 
sorrow.  Of  society  I  would  hear  nothing.  I  im- 
agined my  future  as  devoted  to  the  education  of 
my  son,  who  became  the  sole  hope  and  pride  of  my 
existence.  I  buried  myself  in  the  treasures  of  our 
large  library,  and  as  before  history  became  a  pas- 
sion. Since  actual  war  had  torn  so  much  from  me 
and  my  contemporaries,  my  former  enthusiasm  had 
considerably  abated,  but  I  vigorously  fanned  the 
old  passion  into  life.  I  found  a  certain  consola- 
tion, when  reading  reports  of  noted  battlefields,  in 
the  reflection  that  the  death  of  my  poor  husband 
and  my  own  widowhood  were  but  a  repetition  of 
an  old,  old  story.  Sometimes  this  was  the  case 
— not  always.  It  was  scarcely  possible  for  me  to 
transplant  myself  even  in  imagination  to  that  ear- 
lier period  of  my  girlhood  when  Joan  of  Arc  was 
my  ideal. 

I  soon  exhausted  the  resources  of  our  library  and 
wrote  to  our  agent  in  Vienna  for  any  new  books  he 
might  have  on  hand.  He  sent  Thomas  Buckle's 
"History  of  Civilization."  "An  incomplete  work," 
he  replied,  "but  so  far  as  they  go  the  two  volumes 
are  a  logical  whole  and  their  appearance  has  ex- 
cited the  liveliest  interest  in  England,  as  also 
throughout  the  civilized  world.  The  author  has 
laid  the  foundation  of  a  new  conception  of  history." 

New,  indeed!  After  I  had  read  and  re-read  the 
volumes  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  hitherto 
passed  my  life  cramped  in  a  narrow  valley,  but  had 
now  come  upon  the  mountain  tops,  from  which 
could  be  seen  a  broad  stretch  of  country  covered 
with  towns  and  gardens  and  bordered  by  a  bound- 
less ocean.  I  will  not  maintain  that  I — a  twenty- 
year-old  woman,  who  had  received  only  the  con- 
ventional superficial  education  granted  to  her  sex — 
comprehended  the  full  grandeur  of  the  landscape 
(to  carry  on  the  metaphor)  spread  out  before  me. 
But  I  was  dazzled,  was  overmastered  by  it;  I  real- 
ized that  beyond  the  narrow  limits  of  my  old  hori- 


44  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

zon  there  lay  a  mighty  world  of  which  I  hitherto 
knew  nothing.  Years  later,  when  trained  by  much 
other  reading,  when  I  again  took  up  the  work,  I 
could  humbly  claim  that  I  really  grasped  its  broad 
and  noble  meaning.  But  this  much  I  seized  at 
once:  the  history  of  humanity  cannot  be  told 
through  stories  of  kings  and  statesmen;  nor  of  wars 
and  treaties  which  are  the  result  of  the  ambition  of 
one  and  the  chicanery  of  the  other,  but  is  to  be 
learned  only  through  the  progressive  development 
of  intelligence.  The  chronicles  of  courts  and  bat- 
tles, which  compose  the  chief  part  of  books  of  his- 
tory, may  present  particular  phases  of  the  civili- 
zation of  the  time,  but  not  its  underlying  causes. 
I  found  in  Buckle  not  a  trace  of  the  glamour  with 
which  historians  are  accustomed  to  invest  the  lives 
of  mighty  warriors  and  devastators  of  countries. 
On  the  contrary,  he  convinces  us  that  the  respect 
for  the  profession  of  arms  is  in  inverse  ratio  to  the 
civilization  of  the  people;  the  farther  we  descend 
into  the  barbaric  past,  the  more  frequent  the  ap- 
peal to  violence  and  the  narrower  the  bounds  of 
peace;  we  find  province  against  province,  town 
against  town,  family  against  family.  He  maintains 
that  in  the  progress  of  society  not  only  war,  but  all 
love  of  military  renown  engendered  by  the  stories 
of  the  past  will  cease  to  be.  He  appealed  to  the 
convictions  of  my  own  heart,  which  I  had  often 
repressed  as  cowardly  and  unworthy,  but  which  I 
now  joyfully  recognize  as  being  but  the  faint  reflec- 
tion of  the  growing  spirit  of  the  times.  I  at  one 
time  attempted  to  talk  with  my  father  upon  this 
subject.  But  in  vain — he  would  not  climb  with  me 
to  the  mountain  top — that  is  to  say,  he  would  not 
read  the  book. 

Then  followed  the  year — my  second  phase — 
when  sorrow  became  melancholy.  I  read  and 
studied  with  renewed  ardor,  and  while  brain  and 
heart  developed  melancholy  disappeared.  There 
came  a  time  when  books  grew  wearisome  to  me, 
the  joy  in  existence  reawakened,  and  all  the  'olo- 


11  GROUND  ARMS!"  45 

gies  and  'graphics  in  the  world  could  not  afford 
content.  And  so  it  came  about  that  in  the  winter 
of  1863  I  chaperoned  my  sisters,  and  opened  my 
house  to  Vienna  society. 

"Martha,  Countess  Dotzky,  a  rich  young  widow." 
Under  this  oft-repeated  description  I  soon  found 
myself  a  player  in  the  comedy  of  society. 

It  was  assumed  by  my  family  that  I  would  marry 
again.  Aunt  Marie  no  longer  referred  in  her  hom- 
ilies to  the  soldier  saint  above  patiently  waiting  for 
me.  For  if  in  the  few  short  years  between  me  and 
the  grave  I  saw  fit  to  take  unto  myself  a  second 
husband,  this  fact  might  prejudice  the  prospect  of 
a  pleasant  meeting  there. 

All  of  those  about  me  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
Arno's  existence — all  save  myself.  One  may  cease 
to  mourn  the  dead,  but  forgotten  they  should  never 
be.  I  regarded  this  silence  in  regard  to  those  lost 
to  us  as  a  second  death,  and  to  keep  my  husband's 
memory  green  I  taught  my  little  Rudolph  to  speak 
daily  of  him,  and  at  night  to  add  to  his  evening 
prayer:  "  God  keep  me  good  and  brave  for  love 
of  my  father  Arno." 

We  sisters  enjoyed  ourselves  immensely.  It  was 
really  my  own  debut.  During  the  short  time  I 
had  seen  the  world  and  society  before  my  marriage 
I  was  a  betrothed  bride,  hence  I  had  missed  the 
chief  attraction  in  the  comedy — the  love-making. 
But  now,  though  I  enjoyed  being  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  admirers,  I  could  not  easily  get  on  with 
them.  A  barrier  lay  between  them  and  me  which 
seemed  insurmountable.  All  these  dashing  young 
gentlemen  (chiefly  officers  in  the  regular  service), 
who  appeared  absorbed  in  amusement,  horses,  play 
and  the  ballet,  could  not  have  the  faintest  concep- 
tion of  the  things  of  which  I  thought  and  read. 
That  language  of  which  I  had  but  learned  the 
alphabet,  but  through  which  I  knew  the  men  of 
science  were  solving  the  noblest  riddles,  was  to 
these  gay  butterflies  not  merely  "  Spanish,"  but 
Patagonian. 


46  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

Among  this  tribe  I  should  certainly  find  no  hus- 
band, and  I  was  only  concerned  for  the  sake  of 
my  good  name  that  no  compromising  notion  that 
I  allowed  love-making  should  mount  into  their 
feathery  brains.  But  in  all  else — the  dance,  the 
theatre,  and  dress — I  played  my  rdle  with  a  light 
heart.  I  neither  neglected  my  little  Rudolph  nor 
failed  to  keep  informed  in  regard  to  all  the  tenden- 
cies of  the  literature  of  the  day.  This  latter  occu- 
pation certainly  did  not  tend  toward  the  lowering 
of  the  barriers  between  me  and  my  fashionable 
adorers.  I  would  gladly  have  entertained  in  my 
salon  the  distinguished  men  of  the  scientific  and 
literary  world  of  Vienna.  But  in  the  circle  to 
which  I  belonged  this  was  scarcely  possible.  The 
middle-class  element  was  not  tolerated  in  Austrian 
"society."  This  was  so  especially  at  that  time, 
though  nowadays  it  has  become  the  fashion  to  open 
one's  doors  to  a  few  rare  representatives  of  art  and 
science.  Those  who  could  not  be  presented  at  court 
— that  is  to  say,  could  not  show  sixteen  generations 
of  ancestors — must  be  shut  out.  Our  friends  would 
have  been  quite  unpleasantly  startled  to  meet  un- 
titled  people  at  my  house,  and  would  have  found 
it  impossible  to  affiliate  with  them.  And  these 
people  themselves  would  have  considered  the  com- 
pany collected  in  my  parlors  frightfully  tiresome. 
What  part  could  men  of  brains  and  knowledge, 
writers  and  artists,  have  taken  in  the  senseless 
chatter  of  the  old  generals  and  ancient  ladies-in- 
waiting,  the  gay  sportsmen  and  vapid  young  girls 
who  would  have  edified  them  by  the  account  of 
where  we  danced  yesterday,  and  where  the  next 
ball  was  to  be,  at  Schwarzenberg,  at  Pallavicini, 
or  at  court.  How  they  would  have  been  inspired 
by  the  gossip  as  to  the  quality  of  the  passion  dis- 
played by  the  adorers  of  Baroness  Packer;  or  how 
interested  to  learn  the  name  of  the  latest  unfor- 
tunate rejected  by  the  Countess  Palffy;  or  how 
many  houses  Prince  Croy  maintained.  How  in- 
structive they  would  find  the  discussion  as  to  the 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  47 

maiden  name  of  the  young  Almasy — whether  she 
was  a  Festetics  or  a  Wenkheim,  and  if  a  Wenk- 
heim  could  it  be  on  the  Khevenhiiller  side,  etc., 
etc.  That  was  the  sort  of  stuff  which  made  up  the 
conversation  of  my  guests.  Although  there  were 
occasionally  intellectual  and  able  statesmen,  diplo- 
matists and  men  of  note  among  us,  they  generally 
conformed  to  custom  and  adopted  the  same  frivo- 
lous tone. 

Often  after  one  of  my  dinner  parties  I  would 
have  gladly  joined  the  group  of  brilliant  men  who 
had  escaped  to  a  corner  and  were  evidently  sur- 
reptitiously discussing  something  rational.  But 
my  duties  to  the  other  guests  scarcely  permitted 
this,  and  even  if  I  had  ventured  to  approach  them 
when  they  were  deep  in  the  theories  of  Strauss 
and  Renan,  the  political  situation,  or  the  latest  sci- 
entific discovery,  such  conversation  would  have 
ceased  instantly.  One  and  all  they  would  have 
begun:  "Ah,  Countess  Dotzky,  how  charming 
you  looked  yesterday  at  the  picnic!  Of  course 
you  are  going  to  the  reception  at  the  Russian 
embassy? " 

"  Allow  me,  dear  Martha,"  said  my  cousin,  Con- 
rad Althaus,  "  to  introduce  Lieut. -Col.  Baron  Til- 
ling." 

I  bowed  and  half  rose,  supposing  this  to  mean 
an  invitation  to  dance. 

"  Pardon  me,  Countess,"  said  the  Baron,  a  slight 
smile  showing  his  white  teeth,  "  I  cannot  dance." 

"So  much  the  better,"  I  answered,  sinking  back. 
"I  sat  down  to  rest  a  moment." 

"  I  asked  for  the  honor  of  an  introduction,"  he 
continued  formally,  "as  I  had  some  information  to 
give  you." 

I  looked  up  astonished.  The  Baron  had  a  grave 
face.  He  was  an  earnest  looking  man,  no  longer 
young,  possibly  over  forty,  and  a  few  white  hairs 
were  plainly  visible — upon  the  whole,  a  distin- 
guished, sympathetic  personality. 


48  "  GRO  UND  A  RMS  !  " 

"What  I  have  to  say  is  scarcely  the  thing  to  be 
told  in  a  ball-room.  May  I  call  upon  you  at  any 
hour  you  may  appoint?" 

"I  receive  on  Saturdays  between  two  and  four." 

"Then  I  suppose  that  on  Saturdays  your  house 
is  like  a  bee-hive.  The  swarm  hours  do  not  suit 
me  at  all.  I  had  rather  see  you  alone." 

"  You  excite  my  curiosity.  Come  to-morrow  at 
the  same  hour,  two." 

The  Baron  bowed  and  left  me.  A  little  later 
Cousin  Conrad  passed.  I  inquired  about  Baron 
Tilling. 

"  He  pleases  you,  does  he?  He  has  made  such 
an  impression  that  you  are  already  setting  an  in- 
vestigation on  foot.  He  is  to  be  had — that  is,  he  is 
unmarried.  But  there  is  a  rumor  that  a  certain 
distinguished  lady  (he  named  a  princess  of  the 
reigning  house)  has  him  in  her  silken  toils,  and  that 
he  consequently  does  not  wish  to  marry.  His  reg- 
iment has  been  ordered  into  garrison  here,  and  I 
have  met  him  socially,  though  he  is  no  friend  to 
balls  and  the  like.  I  made  his  acquaintance  at  the 
Casino,  where  he  spends  his  time  in  the  reading- 
room  or  in  playing  chess.  I  was  surprised  to  see 
him  here,  but  I  believe  our  hostess  is  his  cousin. 
After  he  left  you  he  disappeared." 

"  Did  you  introduce  him  to  other  ladies? " 

"  No.  But  do  not  imagine  that  he  looked  at  you 
from  afar  and  straightway  asked  for  an  introduc- 
tion. He  simply  asked:  'Do  you  know  a  certain 
Countess  Dotzky,  formerly  an  Althaus;  possibly 
she  is  a  relative  of  yours?  If  she  is  here  I  should 
like  to  meet  her.'  'Yes,'  I  answered,  'there  she  is, 
in  that  corner,  the  one  in  a  blue  dress  '  '  Be  so 
good  as  to  introduce  me,'  and  away  we  went.  How 
could  I  imagine  that  I  would  thereby  destroy  your 
peace  of  mind?" 

"  Nonsense,  Conrad — my  peace  is  not  so  easily 
ruffled.  Tilling !  What  family  is  that?  I  never 
heard  the  name  before." 

"  See  how  she  persists  !  He  is  a  lucky  man. 
Here  I  have  brought  all  my  powers  of  fascination 


"GROUND  ARMST  43 

to  bear  upon  you  for  three  months  in  vain.  This 
cold-blooded  lieutenant-colonel  comes  along — for 
he  is  cold  and  unfeeling,  I  can  tell  you  that — and 
walks  away  triumphant.  You  ask  about  the  family? 
It  is  of  Prussian  origin,  though  his  father  was  in 
the  Austrian  service ;  his  mother  is  a  Prussian. 
You  must  have  noticed  his  North-German  accent." 

"  He  speaks  a  charming  German." 

"  Oh,  of  course — everything  is  charming  about 
him."  Conrad  rose.  "  Now,  I  have  had  quite 
enough;  I  will  leave  you  to  your  pleasant,  decep- 
tive dreams.  I  can  hunt  up  ladies  who " 

"  Will  think  you  charming,  Conrad.  There  are 
plenty  of  them." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  how  I  enriched  the 
diary  of  that  period  with  reflections  upon  the  char- 
acter of  my  new  acquaintance,  to  which  is  added 
unpleasant  doubts  as  to  where  he  had  spent  the 
remainder  of  that  evening.  Probably  at  the  feet  of 
the  princess,  I  wrote,  and  I  rounded  out  my  sen- 
tences by  envying  her — not  Tilling,  oh,  no! — but  the 
being  loved  by  any  one  at  all. 

That  I  thought  a  moment,  while  I  dressed  that 
afternoon,  as  to  whether  violet  velvet  is  not  best 
adapted  to  set  off  the  beauty  of  a  blonde  I  will 
acknowledge.  The  Baron  was  announced  at  ten 
minutes  after  two. 

"As  you  see,  Countess,  I  have  made  prompt  use 
of  your  permission  to  call,"  he  said,  kissing  my 
hand. 

"Most  fortunately,"  I  answered,  "for  I  am  over- 
whelmed with  curiosity  to  know  the  nature  of  the 
information  you  bring." 

"  Then  I  will  at  once  say  what  I  meant  to  tell 
you.  I  was  at  the  Battle  of  Magenta." 

"  And  you  saw  Arno  die? "  I  cried. 

"  Yes,  I  can  give  you  all  the  particulars.  Believe 
me,  I  would  not  have  spoken  of  it  if  I  had  not  felt 
sure  of  the  relief  I  might  bring  you." 

"  You  lift  a  stone  from  my  heart.  My  anxiety 
has  been  heart-breaking." 


50  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  I  will  not  repeat  the  commonplace  phrase  that 
he  died  as  heroes  die,  because  I  do  not  know  what 
that  means.  But  I  can  give  you  the  only  comfort, 
that  he  died  instantly  without  knowing  that  death 
was  near.  He  was  hopeful  from  the  first.  We 
were  frequently  together;  he  had  shown  me  the 
pictures  of  his  wife  and  child  and  invited  me  to 
visit  him  when  the  campaign  was  over.  At  the 
Battle  of  Magenta  I  chanced  to  be  at  his  side.  I 
spare  you  the  scene.  Men  of  warlike  temperament 
in  the  turmoil  of  an  engagement  are  scarcely  con- 
scious of  what  they  are  doing.  A  shell  burst  near 
us  and  ten  men — among  them  Dotzky — fell  to- 
gether. A  shriek  of  agony  came  from  some  of  the 
poor  fellows,  but  Dotzky  was  killed  instantly.  All 
but  Dotzky  were  so  shockingly  mangled  that  we 
could  do  nothing  for  them.  A  charging  column  of 
cavalry  rode  down  these  wretched  wounded.  After 
the  battle  I  searched  the  field  and  found  Dotzky 
lying  with  the  same  pleasant  smile  on  his  face  as 
when  I  first  reached  him  after  death.  I  have  meant 
for  years  to  tell  you  this,  but  have  had  no  oppor- 
tunity. Forgive  me  if  I  revive  unhappy  memories. 
It  is  better  to  be  released  from  painful  uncer- 
tainty." 

The  Baron  rose,  while  I,  drying  my  tears,  thanked 
him  warmly. 

"  It  is  a  relief  to  know  my  husband  died  free 
from  lingering  agony.  But,  stay  a  moment;  some- 
thing in  your  tone  touches  a  chord  in  my  own  heart. 
You,  too,  hate  war? " 

His  face  darkened. 

"Forgive  me,  Countess, "he  answered,  "if  I  can- 
not talk  with  you  on  that  subject.  I  regret  that  I 
must  leave;  I  am  expected  elsewhere." 

Probably  by  his  princess. 

"  I  will  not  detain  you,"  I  coolly  replied,  and  he 
left  without  asking  permission  to  come  again. 

The  carnival  season  was  over.  Rosa  and  Lilli 
boasted  a  half-dozen  conquests  apiece,  but  no  de- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  51 

sirable  match  among  them.  I  wrote  disconsolately 
in  my  diary:  "  I  am  glad  dancing  is  over;  it  began 
to  be  tiresome.  Always  the  same  dances  and  the 
same  dancers.  The  same  grimaces,  the  same  sighs 
and  killing  glances.  Not  one  interesting  man 
among  them.  The  only  one  worth  knowing  ap- 
parently belongs  to  his  princess.  She  is  a  pretty 
woman,  but  thoroughly  heartless." 

Although  Lent  had  commenced,  there  were  cer- 
tain canonical  species  of  gaiety  mixed  in  with  our 
religious  duties,  such  as  dinners,  concerts,  and  re- 
ceptions; we  were  also  promised  a  new  play  after 
Easter.  Aunt  Marie  considered  us  all  unruly  sin- 
ners and  dragged  Rosa  and  Lilli  about  with  her 
to  hear  all  the  famous  preachers.  The  girls  were 
quite  willing,  as  they  met  all  their  coterie  at  church 
and  continued  their  flirtations.  Certain  noted 
priests,  such  as  Father  Klinkowstrom  among  the 
Jesuits,  were  as  much  the  fashion  asMurska  was  at 
the  Opera  House. 

"  My  dear,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you,"  said  my 
father  one  morning,  as  he  entered  my  breakfast- 
room.  He  carried  a  paper-covered  parcel  in  his 
hand.  "  Here  is  something  for  you." 

"A  petition  and  a  present?"  I  laughed.  "That 
is  bribery." 

"Then  hear  my  petition  before  you  open  the 
parcel.  I  am  going  to  have  a  most  tiresome  dinner- 
party to-day " 

"  Oh,  I  know;  three  old  generals  and  their 
wives." 

"  And  two  cabinet  ministers  with  theirs;  in  short, 
a  stiff,  sleepy,  state  affair.  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"Where  is  Aunt  Marie?" 

"She  has  one  of  her  headaches." 

"  So  you  will  sacrifice  your  daughter  like  the 
ancient  fathers.  For  instance,  as  Agamemnon  sac- 
rificed Iphigenia.  Very  well;  I  submit." 

"  I  thought  I  would  add  a  younger  element.  Doc- 
tor Bresser,  for  one,  who  treated  me  so  well  in  my 


52  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

last  illness  that  I  would  like  to  be  polite  to  him, 
and  Lieut.-Col.  Tilling." 

I  began  to  open  the  package. 

"  It  is  nothing  for  you.     It  belongs  to  Rudi." 

"Yes,  I  see;  a  box  of  leaden  soldiers.  But, 
father,  that  four-years-old  child  should  not " 

"  Now,  now,  what  nonsense.  I  played  soldier 
when  I  was  three  years  old — one  cannot  begin  early 
enough.  My  earliest  recollections  are  of  drums, 
sabers,  learning  to  drill  and  march.  In  this  way 
we  arouse  a  love  for  the  profession." 

"My  son,  Rudolph,  shall  never  be  a  soldier,"  I 
interrupted. 

"  Martha!  I  know  well  what  his  father's  wish 
would  have  been." 

"  Rudolph  belongs  to  me  now,  and  he  shall  not." 

"Shall  not  adopt  the  noblest,  the  most  honorable 
profession? " 

"  The  life  of  my  child  shall  not  be  risked  on  the 
battlefield." 

"Why,  I  was  an  only  son  and  /  became  a  soldier. 
Arno  had  no  brother,  and  your  brother  Otto  is  an 
only  son,  and  yet  I  have  sent  him  to  the  military 
academy.  The  traditions  of  the  family  demand 
that  the  child  of  a  Dotzky  and  an  Althaus  should 
devote  his  life  to  the  service  of  his  country." 

"  His  country  needs  him  less  than  I  do.  Are 
there  no  other  ways  of  serving  his  country? " 

"  Luckily  all  mothers  do  not  think  so." 

"  If  they  did  there  would  be  fewer  parades  and 
grand  reviews  and  fewer  men  for  cannon  fodder, 
as  it  is  now  the  fashion  to  call  the  rank  and  file. 
That  would  be  no  misfortune." 

My  father  looked  very  much  provoked. 

"Oh,  you  women!  How  you  mix  up  the  ethics 
of  the  family  and  of  the  state.  Fortunately  the 
youngster  will  not  ask  your  permission;  soldiers' 
blood  flows  in  his  veins.  He  will  not  be  your  only 
son,  Martha.  You  really  must  marry  again.  What 
has  become  of  all  your  admirers?  How  is  it  with 
Captain  Olensky,  who  is  dead  in  love  with  you? 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  53 

He  has  lately  been  pouring  forth  his  protestations 
to  me.  I  should  like  him  very  well  for  a  son-in- 
law." 

"  I  should  not  like  him  for  a  husband." 

"  Then  there  is  Major  Millersdorf." 

"You  might  offer  the  whole  army  roll — I  want 
none  of  them.  At  what  hour  do  you  dine?" 

"  At  five.  Come  a  little  earlier.  Give  my  love 
to  Rudi — the  future  field-marshal  of  the  imperial 
army." 

It  would  have  been  a  tiresome  ceremonial  dinner 
for  me,  had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  Tilling. 
While  at  the  table  I  had  no  opportunity  of  speak- 
ing to  him,  but  after  we  had  risen  from  dinner  he 
joined  a  group  in  one  corner  of  the  long  drawing- 
room,  where  smoking  was  allowed.  The  old  ladies 
withdrew  into  a  recess  at  the  lower  end.  I  lighted 
a  cigarette.  The  two  old  gray-headed  generals 
who  had  been  seated  by  me  at  dinner  remained 
faithful  attendants  as  I  sat  at  my  little  table  serving 
the  black  coffee. 

"I  wonder  if  we  may  not  expect  an  outbreak 
soon? "  said  one  of  the  old  gentlemen. 

"  H'm,"  replied  the  other.  "The  next  war  will 
be  with  Russia." 

"  Must  there  always  be  a  next  war? "  I  murmured; 
but  no  one  noticed  me. 

"  It  is  far  more  likely  it  will  be  with  Italy,"  re- 
plied my  father.  "  We  must  get  Lombardy  back 
some  way.  I  want  to  see  a  march  into  Milan  like 
that  of  '49  under  Father  Radetzky.  It  was  a 
bright,  sunny  morning " 

"  Oh,"  I  exclaimed  in  a  panic,  "  we  all  know  the 
story  of  the  march  into  Milan." 

"All  about  the  brave  Hupfauf  also,  I  suppose," 
answered  my  father  laughing. 

"Yes,  yes,  and  it  is  horrible." 

"  Let  us  hear  it,  Althaus.  We  have  not  heard 
it,"  one  of  the  group  said  diplomatically. 

My  father  did  not  need  a  more  pressing  invitation. 

"  This  man  Hupfauf  belonged  to  a  regiment  of 
Tyrolean  Jiigers;  he  was  a  native  Tyrolean  and  the 


54  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

best  shot  you  ever  saw;  he  always  carried  off  the 
prizes  at  the  shooting  matches.  When  the  Milanese 
rebelled,  he  asked  permission  to  climb  to  the  roof 
of  the  cathedral;  he  proposed  to  take  four  com- 
rades with  him  and  shoot  at  the  rebels.  He  was 
allowed  to  do  it.  The  four  did  nothing  but  load 
their  rifles  and  hand  them  to  him;  he  hit  his  mark 
every  time  and  killed  ninety  Italians." 

"  It  was  abominable,"  I  exclaimed.  "  Every  one  of 
those  poor  fellows  had  a  mother,  wife,  or  sweetheart 
at  home,  and  a  right  to  his  own  young  life." 

"  They  were  our  enemies,  child;  that  alters  the 
point  of  view." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Doctor  Bresser  sarcastically; 
"so  long  as  the  idea  of  enmity  being  justifiable  is 
sanctioned  among  men,  based  solely  upon  the  fact 
of  your  being  on  one  side  of  the  boundary  line  of 
a  country  and  I  on  the  other,  the  law  of  humanity 
will  receive  but  slight  recognition." 

"What  do  you  say,  Baron  Tilling,"  I  asked. 

"  I  would  have  given  the  man  an  order  to  deco- 
rate his  gallant  breast — from  the  standpoint  based 
upon  the  ethics  of  war — and  would  then  have  put 
a  bullet  through  his  flinty  heart;  both  were  well 
deserved." 

I  looked  up  at  the  speaker  warmly,  gratefully. 
The  remarks,  however,  evidently  jarred  upon  the 
conventional  class  sensibilities  of  the  others,  and 
there  was  an  awkward  pause. 

"Have  you  seen  the  new  book  by  the  English 
naturalist,  Darwin,"  asked  the  Doctor,  turning  to 
my  father. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  it." 

"  Why,  Papa,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  do  not  remem- 
ber; our  bookseller  sent  it  to  us  four  years  ago,  and 
you  then  predicted  it  would  soon  be  forgotten  by 
the  world." 

"  So  far  as  I  am  concerned  that  is  true." 

"The  whole  world  is  turned  upside  down  by  it," 
returned  the  Doctor.  "Everybody  is  discussing 
the  new  theory  of  the  origin  of  species." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  55 

"Ah,  you  mean  the  monkey  theory?"  exclaimed 
the  old  general  at  my  right.  "I  heard  them  talk- 
ing about  it  at  the  Casino.  The  learned  gentlemen 
have  reached  a  strange  conclusion — that  man  was 
originally  an  orang-outang." 

"Upon  the  whole,"  the  cabinet  minister  began — 
when  our  old  friend  opened  his  orations  in  this 
style,  we  quaked  in  our  shoes — "the  thing  sounds 
absurd;  but  it  really  cannot  be  treated  as  a  joke. 
It  is  a  theory  built  upon  diligently  collected  facts 
and  ingeniously  elaborated.  To  be  sure  it  has 
been  attacked  by  men  of  repute,  but  like  many 
speculative  ideas  distasteful  to  us  it  has  produced 
an  effect  and  has  warm  defenders.  We  shall  soon 
hear  the  word  Darwinism,  which  will  survive  long 
after  his  theory  has  been  abandoned.  It  is  a  great 
pity  that  people  display  so  much  temper  in  dis- 
cussing this  singular  Englishman.  Of  course  the 
clergy  object  to  the  destruction  of  their  story  of 
the  creation  of  man  after  God's  own  image; — no 
wonder  they  denounce  it  as  a  scandalous  attack. 
But  the  condemnation  of  the  church  can  no  longer 
prevent  the  spread  of  a  theory  presented  under  the 
cloak  of  science." 

"What  folly!"  exclaimed  my  father,  beginning 
to  be  anxious  about  his  other  guests,  who  looked 
rather  bored.  "Man  descended  from  apes!  One 
only  needs  a  little  common  sense  to  reject  such  an 
absurd  notion." 

"We  are  not  at  all  certain  how  the  discussion 
may  end,"  the  minister  solemnly  insisted.  "  It  can- 
not be  denied  that  between  man  and  ape  there  is  a 
great  resemblance." 

"  The  abyss  between  them  is  immeasurable,"  qui- 
etly replied  one  of  the  old  generals.  "  Can  one  con- 
ceive of  an  ape  who  could  invent  the  telegraph? 
Language  itself  lifts  man  far  above  the  brute." 

"Pardon  me,  your  Excellency,"  said  Doctor  Bres- 
ser.  "  Language  and  the  capacity  for  technical 
discovery  were  not  originally  born  with  man — a 
wild  man  could  not  to-day  invent  the  telegraphic 


56  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

instrument.  That  is  all  the  result  of  slow  develop- 
ment and  evolution." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  Doctor,"  answered  the  general. 
"Evolution  is  the  battle-cry  of  the  new  school,  but 
one  cannot  evolve  a  camel  from  a  kangaroo.  Why 
do  we  not  find  apes  to-day  developing  into  men?" 

I  turned  impatiently  to  Baron  Tilling. 

"  What  do  you  say?  Do  you  march  with  the 
defenders  or  the  opponents  of  Darwin?" 

"Although  I  have  heard  much  of  the  subject, 
Countess,  I  can  have  no  opinion.  I  have  not  read 
the  book." 

"  Nor  I,"  the  Doctor  acknowledged. 

"  Nor  I — nor  I — nor  I" — chorused  all  the  others. 

Amid  the  general  laughter  the  Minister  of  Finance 
apologetically  added: 

"After  all,  the  battle-cries  of  the  system  have 
become  so  well  known  that  we  acquire  quite  a  good 
idea  of  what  it  all  means  and  can  join  either  army 
of  combatants.  '  The  survival  of  the  fittest,'  'natural 
selection,'  '  evolution,'  are  expressions  familiar  as 
the  alphabet.  You  find  defenders  of  the  advanced 
ideas  among  all  the  destructive  spirits  who  are 
always  running  after  a  new  thing,  while  the  cold- 
blooded, critical  people,  who  insist  upon  positive 
evidence,  are  found  on  the  other  side." 

"  The  opposition  to  every  new  idea,  of  which 
we  everywhere  hear  the  chorus,"  said  Tilling,  "is 
usually  based  upon  the  falsest  and  most  cowardly 
grounds — and  it  would  be  impossible  for  one  to 
echo  it.  Even  when  new  scientific  hypotheses  are 
proved,  they  continue  to  be  assailed  by  conservative 
people.  I  shall  undertake  to  read  the  book,  but 
not  to  pass  judgment  upon  its  scientific  theories, 
as  my  knowledge  in  that  line  is  very  limited.  I 
acknowledge,  however,  that  a  theory  which  so  vio- 
lently antagonizes  all  preconceived  opinions  prej- 
udices me  in  its  favor  for  that  very  reason." 

"Oh  you  clear-headed,  courageous  soul!"  I  si- 
lently apostrophized  the  speaker, 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  57 

About  eight  o'clock  the  party  dispersed.  My 
father  politely  urged  delay  and  I  mildly  murmured: 
"  At  least  a  cup  of  tea? "  Each  had  his  excuse:  one 
was  expected  at  the  Casino,  another  was  going  to 
a  concert;  one  of  the  ladies  had  a  box  at  the  opera 
and  wished  to  see  the  fourth  act  of  the  Huguenots; 
the  second  expected  guests;  in  short,  all  quite  will- 
ingly, though  with  polite  assurance  to  the  con- 
trary, left  the  house.  Tilling  and  Doctor  Bresser 
lingered  and  needed  but  slight  urging  to  remain. 

My  father  and  the  Doctor  were  soon  seated  at 
the  card  table  playing  picquet,  while  Baron  Tilling 
joined  me  before  the  grate. 

"  I  must  really  reproach  you,  Baron  Tilling;  why 
have  you  forgotten  the  way  to  my  house?" 

"  I  was  not  invited  to  repeat  my  visit." 

"  Why  I  told  you  that  I  received  on  Saturdays." 

"  Yes,  between  two  and  four;  you  must  excuse 
me,  Countess.  I  know  nothing  more  abominable 
than  these  conventional  receptions.  You  enter  a 
drawing-room  filled  with  strange  people,  bow  to  the 
hostess;  then  you  are  pushed  to  the  outer  edge  of  a 
hall-circle.  You  hear  remarks  about  the  weather, 
and  if  you  chance  to  see  an  acquaintance  may  dis- 
cuss the  same  subject.  If  you  make  a  desperate 
attempt  to  exchange  a  word  with  the  hostess,  you 
are  pushed  away  by  some  later  arrival,  and  back 
you  go  to  the  half-circle,  and — being  of  the  opinion 
that  the  subject  is  not  yet  exhausted — you  begin 
again  with  somebody  about  the  weather.  Then 
after  ten  minutes,  when  the  crowd  increases,  per- 
haps you  are  crowded  out  by  a  mamma  with  four 
marriageable  daughters  who  cannot  find  chairs. 
You  make  your  escape  the  best  way  you  can.  No, 
Countess,  that  is  more  than  my  weak  capacity  can 
endure." 

"  You  appear  to  dislike  society.  I  see  you  nowhere. 
Perhaps  you  hate  your  kind.  No,  I  do  not  mean 
quite  that.  I  am  sure,  from  what  I  have  heard  you 
say,  that  you  love  all  men." 

"  I  love  humanity,  but  all  men — no.  There  are 
too  many  coarse,  wicked,  cold-blooded  wretches 


58  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

among  them.  I  cannot  love  such  men,  however  I 
may  regret  that  education  and  environment  have 
prevented  their  becoming  worthy  of  any  love  at 
all." 

"  Education  and  environment?  The  character 
depends  chiefly  on  hereditary  tendencies,  does  it 
not?" 

"What  you  call  inherited  tendencies  are  usually 
nothing  more  than  environment — inherited  environ- 
ment." 

"  Then  you  hold  that  a  bad  man  is  not  responsi- 
ble for  his  wickedness,  and  should  not  be  shunned 
on  its  account?" 

"  One  does  not  follow  the  other.  He  may  not 
be  responsible,  but  still  must  be  avoided." 

There  was  a  pause  for  a  moment. 

"Why  did  you  become  a  soldier,  Baron  Tilling?" 

"Ah,  there  you  show  how  you  have  read  my  heart. 
But  it  was  not  I,  not  Frederick  Tilling,  now  thirty- 
nine  years  old — the  man  who  has  seen  three  cam- 
paigns— who  chose  the  profession.  It  was  the  ten 
or  twelve  years  old  Fritz,  whose  babyhood  was 
spent  among  wooden  cavalry  and  leaden  soldiers. 
It  was  the  boy  whose  father,  a  general,  decorated 
with  many  orders,  and  whose  uncle,  a  lady-killer  of 
a  lieutenant,  were  always  asking,  'Youngster,  what 
are  you  going  to  be?'  Of  course  the  boy  always 
answered,  '  A  real  soldier  with  a  real  saber  and  a 
live  horse.' " 

"A  box  of  leaden  soldiers  was  brought  to  my 
house  to-day  for  my  little  Rudolph,  but  I  shall  not 
give  them  to  him.  But  why  after  Fritz  had  de- 
veloped into  Frederick  did  you  not  abandon  a  call- 
ing hateful  to  you?" 

"  Hateful?  That  is  saying  too  much.  I  hate  the 
condition  of  things  which  requires  of  men  such 
dreadful  duty  as  the  conduct  of  war;  but  as  this 
condition  exists  and  is  not  yet  unavoidable,  I  can- 
not hate  the  men  who  accept  these  necessary  duties 
and  conscientiously  fulfill  them.  If  I  left  the  mili- 
tary service  would  there  be  less  of  war?  In  my 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  59 

place  another  would  risk  his  life.  That  I  can  do  as 
well  as  he." 

"Could  you  not  better  serve  your  fellow-men  in 
some  other  way?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  have  not  been  taught  any- 
thing but  the  art  of  war.  In  any  station  a  man 
may  be  of  service  to  his  fellow-men.  I  have  oppor- 
tunity enough  to  lighten  the  burdens  of  those  who 
serve  under  me.  I  appreciate  the  respect  with 
which  the  world  regards  my  rank.  I  have  had  a 
fortunate  career  and  enjoy  my  success.  I  possess 
no  private  fortune  and  as  a  civilian  I  could  be  of 
no  use  to  myself  or  others.  Why  should  I  abandon 
my  profession? " 

"And  yet  the  destruction  of  human  life  is  abhor- 
rent to  you?  " 

"  When  it  comes  to  defense  of  one's  own  life 
personal  responsibility  ends.  War  is  often  called 
wholesale  murder,  but  the  individual  soldier  does 
not  regard  himself  as  a  murderer.  It  is  true  that 
the  suffering  and  atrocities  of  the  battlefield  fill 
me  with  pain  and  disgust.  I  suffer,  suffer  intensely; 
but  so  must  many  a  seaman  during  a  storm  suffer 
from  sea-sickness;  yet  if  he  is  but  half  way  a  manly 
fellow  he  remains  on  deck  and  defies  and  masters 
his  surroundings." 

"Yes,  if  it  must  be.     But  must  war  be?" 

"That  is  another  question.  But  the  individual 
must  serve,  and  that  necessity  gives  him  the 
strength  to  fulfill  his  obligation." 

We  continued  our  conversation  in  a  low  tone 
that  we  might  not  disturb  the  players.  Tilling  told 
of  some  of  the  episodes  of  war,  and  I  quoted 
Buckle's  opinion  that  with  the  advancement  of 
civilization  the  military  spirit  would  decline;  but 
such  talk  would  not  have  pleased  the  ear  of  Gen- 
eral Althaus. 

"What  are  you  two  whispering  about?"  my 
father  suddenly  called  out. 

"I  am  telling  old  war  stories,"  answered  the 
Baron. 


60  "  GRO  UND  A  RMS  !  " 

"  Martha  is  used  to  that  from  her  childhood.  I 
even  go  over  a  few  nowadays." 

I  rose  and  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"I  must  say  good-night,  Papa,"  and  I  withdrew, 
Tilling  accompanying  me  to  the  carriage. 

Within  the  next  few  days  I  visited  my  old  friend, 
Lori  Griesbach,  with  whom  I  was  intimate,  though 
in  many  respects  there  was  not  the  slightest  sympa- 
thy between  us.  She  could  not  have  comprehended 
many  of  my  ideas  of  life  and  duty.  How  rarely  do 
we  find  a  human  being  to  whom  we  can  show  all 
of  our  nature.  Our  friendships  are  but  one-sided 
and  our  misconceptions  of  each  other  manifold. 

Lori's  boy,  Xaver,  was  of  the  same  age  as  my 
Rudolph,  and  they  were  playfellows;  and  Lori's 
ten -months-old  baby,  Beatrice,  we  had  jestingly  set 
apart  as  the  future  Countess  Rudolph  Dotzky. 

"Are  we  really  to  see  you  again?"  exclaimed 
Lori  as  I  entered.  "You  have  become  a  hermit. 
I  have  not  had  the  honor  lately  of  seeing  my  future 
son-in-law.  Beatrice  will  be  very  much  offended. 
What  have  you  been  doing?  How  is  Lilli?  My 
husband  came  home  from  the  club  with  a  fine  re- 
port about  her.  It  seems  somebody  is  in  love  with 
her  whom  we  have  all  supposed  was  courting  you. 
What  a  lovely  dress!  Francine  made  it  of  course." 

She  chattered  on  and  I  replied  in  kind,  at  last 
taking  occasion  to  inquire  whether  she  had  ever 
heard  the  gossip  about  Tilling  and  the  princess. 

"Oh  that  is  ancient  history,"  she  replied.  "It  is 
well  known  nowadays  that  the  princess  is  devoted 
to  an  actor  at  the  Burg  Theatre.  Are  you  inter- 
ested in  Tilling?  Better  confess.  You  have  been 
frosty  and  unfeeling  long  enough.  It  would  do  me 
good  to  see  you  in  love.  But  he  is  no  match  for 
you.  Of  course  you  have  money  enough  for  both, 
but  you  have  had  brilliant  opportunities.  Have 
you  heard  about  Frederick  Drontheim,  the  same 
one  who  squandered  his  fortune  on  the  ballet 
dancer,  Grilli?  He  is  going  to  marry  a  rich  banker's 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  61 

daughter  and  become  a  nobleman.  Of  course  no 
one  will  visit  her.  Are  you  going  to  the  English 
Embassy  this  evening?  No?  Quite  right.  You 
never  know  whom  you  are  going  to  meet  there.  It 
is  positively  shocking;  there  are  so  many  queer 
people,  you  are  not  at  all  sure  they  arecomme  il  faut. 
Every  Englishman  who  brings  letters  to  his  em- 
bassador  is  invited  even  if  he  is  only  a  rich  com- 
mercial man.  I  cannot  endure  the  English — except 
in  the  Tauchnitz  edition.  Have  you  read  "Jane 
Eyre?"  Lovely,  is  it  not?  As  soon  as  Beatrice  be- 
gins to  talk  I  shall  get  an  English  maid.  I  am  not 
at  all  satisfied  with  my  French  one.  Just  imagine,  I 
met  her  lately  on  the  street  when  she  had  taken  the 
baby  out,  whispering  very  confidentially  with  some 
young  fellow — looked  as  if  he  might  be  a  clerk. 
You  ought  to  have  seen  their  consternation  when 
I  suddenly  appeared  before  them.  Such  people  are 
a  nuisance.  And  my  dressing  maid  has  had  the 
assurance  to  tell  me  she  is  going  to  be  married. 
Then  I  shall  have  to  have  a  stranger  about  again. 
What,  are  you  going  already?" 

I  was  rejoiced  to  see  Tilling's  cousin  enter  my 
parlor  on  my  next  reception  day. 

"  I  have  a  message  for  you,"  she  said  at  once. 
"Cousin  Frederick  sends  his  compliments.  He 
left  yesterday."  I  felt  my  cheeks  grow  pale. 

"Left!     Has  the  regiment  been  ordered  away? " 
"  No,  he  was  obliged  to  ask  for  a  leave  of  ab- 
sence.    His  mother  is  very  ill  and  he  has  gone  to 
Berlin." 

Two  days  later  I  received  a  letter  in  an  unknown 
hand  from  Berlin.  I  knew  it  was  from  Baron  Til- 
ling. 

BERLIN,  Frederick  St.  8. 
30  March,  1863. 
I  o'clock,  midnight. 
MY  DEAR  COUNTESS: 

I  must  write  to  you  of  my  deep  trouble.  Why 
do  I  turn  to  you?  Have  I  the  right?  I  do  not  claim  it; 
it  is  only  the  irresistible  impulse.  You  will  sympathize 


62  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

with  me,  I  am  sure.  If  you  had  only  known  you  would 
have  loved  my  mother.  And  now  this  tender  heart,  this 
clear  intellect,  this  cheerful  temper,  this  sweet  dignity 
must  soon  pass  into  the  grave — there  is  no  hope.  I  have 
spent  the  whole  day  at  her  bedside  and  shall  be  by  her 
side  this  last  night.  She  has  suffered  much.  She  is  now 
quiet,  for  Nature's  powers  are  benumbed,  her  pulse  has 
almost  ceased  to  beat.  The  physician  and  her  sister  are 
with  me.  Ah!  this  terrible  destruction,  this  death.  We 
all  know  that  we  must  die,  yet  we  cannot  comprehend 
why  those  we  love  should  be  taken  from  us.  What  my 
mother  has  been  to  me  I  cannot  express  to  you. 

She  knows  that  she  must  die.  When  I  arrived  this 
morning  she  received  me  with  a  cry  of  joy.  "  My  boy,  I 
feared  you  would  come  too  late."  "  You  will  get  well, 
Mother?"  I  cried.  "No,  no,  it  is  not  possible.  Do  not 
waste  the  sanctity  of  our  last  parting  by  the  usual  sick- 
room commonplaces.  Let  us  say  good-by." 

I  fell  weeping  on  my  knees  at  her  bedside.  "  You  weep, 
my  son?  See,  I  do  not  repeat  the  customary  protest.  I 
am  glad  that  the  parting  from  your  best  old  friend 
grieves  you.  It  assures  me  that  you  will  remember  me." 

"  So  long  as  I  live,  Mother." 

"  Remember,  then  that  you  have  given  me  much  happi- 
ness. Excepting  the  natural  anxiety  which  your  child- 
hood cost  me,  and  the  dread  of  losing  you  during  the 
time  of  war,  you  have  brought  me  only  happiness,  and 
have  shared  all  that  fate  has  brought  me  of  other  trouble. 
I  bless  you  for  that,  my  child!  " 

Then  came  one  of  her  dreadful  attacks  of  pain.  Her 
groans  and  gasps  were  enough  to  break  one's  heart.  Yes, 
he  is  a  frightful  enemy — this  death,  and  the  sight  of  her 
suffering  brought  back  to  memory  all  the  agony  I  had 
seen  in  the  battlefield  and  in  the  hospitals.  When  I 
reflect  that  we  drive  men  on  to  meet  death  joyously;  that 
we  urge  full-blooded,  happy  youth  to  sacrifice  themselves 
to  death,  against  which  weary  and  enfeebled  age  protests, 
I  see  how  base  we  are. 

This  night  is  frightfully  long.  If  the  poor  soul  could 
only  sleep!  but  she  lies  there  with  open  eyes.  Every 
half  hour  I  kneel  motionless  beside  her;  then  I  come 
away  to  write  a  few  lines  to  you — then  go  back  to  her. 

It  is  four  o'clock.  I  have  just  heard  four  strokes  from 
every  clock  tower.  Ah!  it  seems  so  relentlessly  cold  and 
heartless  that  time  strides  on  for  all  eternity,  while  soon 
for  one  passionately  loved  soul  time  shall  cease — for  all 
eternity.  But  the  more  this  outer  world  turns  from  our 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  63 

pain,  the  more  longingly  we  turn  to  that  other  human 
heart  where  we  hope  for  consolation. 

Seven  o'clock.  It  is  all  over.  "  Farewell,  my  boy," 
were  her  last  words.  Then  she  gently  shut  her  eyes  and 
fell  asleep.  Grieved  unto  death, 

Yours, 

FREDERICK  TILLING. 

This  letter  I  have  still.  How  worn  and  faded 
the  page  now  looks.  Not  only  the  wear  of  twenty 
years  has  caused  this  decay,  but  the  tears  and  kisses 
with  which  I  then  received  it.  All  doubt  was  laid 
at  rest,  and  I  was  sure  of  this  man's  love. 

Three  weeks  had  passed.  Conrad  Althaus  had 
offered  himself  to  Lilli  and  had  been  rejected.  He 
took  it  far  from  tragically  and  was  as  persistent  a 
visitor  as  before,  and  devoted  himself  assiduously 
to  us  whenever  we  met  in  society. 

I  once  expressed  my  surprise  at  this  loyalty. 

"  I  am  delighted  that  you  are  not  offended,"  I 
said;  "but  it  only  proves  to  me  that  your  attach- 
ment for  Lilli  was  not  very  serious,  for  despised 
love  is  usually  malicious." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  respected  cousin,  I  love  Lilli 
frantically.  At  first  I  thought  I  loved  you,  but  you 
were  so  cold-blooded  that  I  next  bestowed  my 
affections  upon  Rosa;  but  finally  I  discovered  that 
Lilli  was  the  one,  and  by  this  decision  I  mean  to 
abide  to  the  end  of  my  days." 

"That  is  very  probable." 

"Lilli  or  no  one!  " 

"But  if  she  will  not  marry  you,  Conrad?" 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  am  the  first  man  who 
after  receiving  the  mitten  the  first  time  is  dis- 
couraged by  its  presentation  a  second,  a  third,  or  a 
fourth — why,  she  will  marry  me  to  get  rid  of  me. 
Lilli  is  not  a  bit  in  love  with  me.  But  it  has 
delighted  me  that  she  has  refused  several  good 
matches,  and  I  am  more  in  love  with  her  than  ever. 
By  and  by  my  fidelity  will  touch  her  and  excite 
some  return;  for  you  are  bound  to  be  my  sister-in- 


64  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

law,  Martha.  I  hope  you  will  not  use  your  influ- 
ence against  me." 

"On  the  contrary,  I  approve  your  plan  of  perse- 
verance. That  is  the  way  a  woman  should  be  won. 
But  our  modern  young  gentlemen  want  to  secure 
their  happiness  by  idly  plucking  it  like  a  flower 
by  the  wayside." 

Tilling  had  been  in  Vienna  ten  days  but  had  not 
been  near  me.  I  was  depressed  and  unhappy  and 
Aunt  Marie  reproached  me  for  my  low  spirits. 

"  Have  you  tickets  to  see  the  Foot-Washing?  "  she 
asked  one  day.  "  To-morrow  is  Maundy  Thursday." 

"  Yes,  Papa  brought  us  some.  But  I  really  don't 
know  whether  I  care  to  go." 

"Oh,  you  must.  There  is  nothing  more  sublime 
than  this  touching  ceremony — the  triumph  of 
Christian  humility.  Emperor  and  Empress  stoop- 
ing to  wash  the  feet  of  those  poor  old  people  sym- 
bolizes how  small  and  insignificant  earthly  majesty 
is  compared  with  the  Divine  love." 

"You  must  actually  feel  humility  in  order  to 
represent  it  by  throwing  yourself  on  your  knees. 
This  ceremony  only  says:  'What  God's  Son  was 
in  relation  to  the  apostles,  that  am  I,  the  Emperor, 
in  my  relation  to  these  paupers.'  It  seems  to  me 
that  this  does  not  express  humility." 

"You  have  such  curious  notions,  Martha.  Dur- 
ing the  three  years  that  you  have  lived  in  the 
country,  reading  bad  books,  your  ideas  have  be- 
come completely  warped." 

"Bad  books!" 

"Yes,  that  is  just  the  word.  The  other  day  when 
I  innocently  mentioned  to  the  Archbishop  that  I 
had  seen  on  your  table  a  book  called  the  '  Life  of 
Jesus,'  by  one  Strauss,  he  threw  up  his  hands  and 
cried:  '  Merciful  heaven,  how  did  you  get  hold  of 
such  a  vicious  book?'  I  blushed  fiery  red  and  as- 
sured him  I  had  not  read  it,  but  had  only  seen  it  on 
the  table  of  a  relative.  '  Then  appeal  to  this  rela- 
tive, by  all  her  hopes  of  salvation,  to  throw  that 
book  into  the  fire.'  I  beg  you  now,  Martha,  to  do  it. 
Will  you  burn  the  book? " 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  65 

"  If  we  had  lived  two  or  three  hundred  years 
ago  we  should  see  not  only  the  book  but  the  au- 
thor thrown  into  the  fire.  That  might  have  been 
effectual — temporarily  effectual — but  only  tempor- 
arily." 

"Why  do  you  not  answer?  Will  you  burn  the 
book?" 

"  No." 

"  So  short  as  that — no?  " 

"What  is  the  use  of  talking.  We  do  not  under- 
stand each  other  at  all  in  this  matter,  dear  Aunt. 
Let  me  rather  tell  you  what  Rudolph  said  yester- 
day." 

And  the  conversation  was  happily  turned  upon  a 
theme  of  which  my  good  aunt  never  tired. 

I  determined  the  next  day  to  witness  the  Foot- 
Washing.  About  ten  o'clock,  dressed  in  black,  as 
is  usual  in  Holy  week,  my  sister  Rosa  and  I  went 
to  the  palace  to  witness  the  great  ceremony.  Upon 
a  platform  places  had  been  reserved  for  the  mem- 
bers of  the  aristocracy  and  the  diplomatic  corps. 
We  were  thus  again  safely  set  apart  by  ourselves, 
and  exchanged  greetings  right  and  left.  The  gal- 
lery was  also  filled  by  those  for  whom  seats  had 
been  reserved,  a  somewhat  mixed  crowd,  not  the 
cream,  as  we  were.  In  short,  the  old  caste  distinc- 
tions and  privileges  must  countenance  this  festival 
of  symbolic  humility. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  others  were  in  the 
proper  religious  mood,  but  I  awaited  the  ceremony 
with  exactly  the  same  feeling  with  which  I  antici- 
pated a  new  spectacle  at  the  theatre;  excited  just 
in  the  same  way  as,  after  exchanging  greetings 
from  box  to  box,  we  await  the  rolling  up  of  the 
curtain.  I  watched  the  point  from  which  the  choir 
and  solo  singers  were  to  appear.  The  decorations 
were  already  in  place,  that  is  to  say,  the  long  table 
at  which  the  twelve  old  men  and  twelve  old  women 
were  to  be  seated.  I  was  glad  I  had  come;  it  was 
something  new — always  a  pleasant  sensation — and 
for  a  time  obliterated  all  melancholy  thoughts. 


66  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

At  the  moment  when  I  had  forgotten  him  my  eye 
fell  upon  Tilling,  who  entered  with  the  generals 
and  their  staffs.  He  took  his  place  opposite  and 
I  endeavored  by  persistently  keeping  my  eyes  on 
him  to  attract  his  attention — but  in  vain. 

"They  are  coming,  they  are  coming!"  cried 
Rosa.  "How  lovely!  What  a  picture!  " 

They  were  the  old  men  and  women,  clad  in  an 
obsolete  German  fashion.  The  youngest  of  the 
women — so  the  papers  had  announced — was  eighty- 
eight;  the  youngest  of  the  men,  eighty-five  years 
old.  Wrinkled,  toothless,  bent — I  could  not  apply 
Rosa's  "charming."  What  pleased  her  was  the 
costume.  It  was  admirably  adapted  to  this  cere- 
mony of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  anachronism  was 
in  our  presence,  our  modern  clothes,  and  our  mod- 
ern ideas — we  were  not  a  consistent  part  of  the 
picture. 

After  the  twenty-four  old  people  had  taken  their 
places  at  the  table,  a  number  of  decorated  and 
distinguished  individuals,  mostly  old  men,  privy 
councilors  and  gentlemen-in-waiting,  came  in, — 
all  well-known  faces, — Minister  "Upon  the  Whole" 
among  them.  Last  came  the  clergy  who  were  to 
officiate  at  the  ceremony. 

Now  came  the  most  important  figures  in  this 
pageant — the  imperial  couple — certainly  the  hand- 
somest pair  on  the  continent.  They  were  attended 
by  a  brilliant  group  of  archdukes  and  duchesses. 
The  ceremony  could  now  proceed.  Stewards  and 
pages  brought  in  bowls  filled  with  food,  and  the 
Emperor  and  Empress  placed  them  before  the  old 
people.  It  was  more  of  a  picture  than  ever.  The 
utensils,  the  character  of  the  food  and  the  attire 
of  the  pages  reminded  one  of  certain  famous  pict- 
ures of  festal  occasions  painted  in  the  Renais- 
sance style. 

Scarcely  were  the  dishes  set  before  the  people 
when  the  table  was  again  cleared,  which  work,  as  a 
lesson  in  humility,  was  performed  by  the  arch- 
dukes. Thereupon  the  table  was  carried  out  and 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  67 

the  scenic  effect  proper  of  the  play — the  Foot  Wash- 
ing— begun.  In  truth  it  was  but  the  counterfeit 
presentment  of  washing,  as  the  meal  had  been  a 
counterfeit  one.  Kneeling  upon  the  floor  the  Em- 
peror lightly  rubbed  a  towel  over  the  feet  of  the 
old  men,  after  an  attendant  priest  had  pretended  to 
pour  water  out  of  a  consecrated  vessel.  Slipping 
along  the  floor  from  the  first  to  the  twelfth,  the 
Emperor  continued,  while  the  Empress  in  the  same 
humble  position  followed  this  procedure  with  the 
old  women.  The  proper  music  followed  the  read- 
ing by  the  Court  Chaplain  of  the  Gospel  for  the 
day. 

How  gladly  would  I  for  a  few  moments  have  ex- 
changed places  with  one  of  the  old  people  in  order 
to  experience  the  effect  upon  them  of  this  quaint 
old  costume,  this  brilliant  gathering  assembled  to 
witness  their  Majesties  at  their  feet — to  get  their 
point  of  view,  in  fact.  Probably  it  was  only  a  be- 
wildered half  dream,  a  little  pleasure  and  confused 
pain,  or  a  complete  suspension  of  strength  which 
was  experienced  by  the  poor,  feeble  old  souls.  The 
only  real  things  about  the  whole  affair  were  the  red 
silk  purses  with  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  thrown  round 
the  necks  of  the  old  people  by  their  Majesties  to 
conclude  the  ceremony,  and  the  permission  which 
was  given  to  carry  home  the  bowls  of  food. 

The  ceremony  was  soon  over  and  was  followed 
by  a  whirl  of  greetings,  congratulations  and  polite 
nothings,  after  which  the  guests  hastened  away. 
We  found  Tilling  waiting  to  see  us,  and  he  thanked 
me  for  the  funeral  wreath  I  had  sent  to  Berlin.  I 
offered  him  my  hand,  and  as  we  were  seated  in  my 
carriage  I  leaned  forward  to  say,  though  with  the 
greatest  effort: 

"  I  shall  be  at  home  Sunday,  between  two  and 
three." 

He  bowed  silently  and  we  drove  away.  When  he 
came,  the  following  Sunday,  he  was  reticent  and 
cold,  formally  apologized  for  his  boldness  in  writ- 
ing from  Berlin,  and  when  gently  questioned  spoke 


68  "  GRO  UND  A  RMS  !  " 

somewhat  of  his  mother's  life,  but  of  what  I  hoped 
to  hear — not  a  word.  We  parted  with  restraint, 
and  I  found  poor  consolation  for  my  disappointed, 
troubled  spirit  in  declaring  to  my  journal  that  I  had 
deceived  myself. 

Easter  Monday  was  favored  by  Heaven  with  the 
loveliest  of  skies,  and  the  usual  drive  through  the 
Prater — which  it  was  customary  to  make  a  sort  of 
social  inaugural  of  the  great  first  of  May  Corso — 
was  more  than  ordinarily  brilliant.  All  this  brill- 
iancy, this  joy  in  mere  existence  and  in  the  fresh 
springtime  which  inspired  the  beautiful  and  dash- 
ing occupants  of  the  numerous  carriages,  intensified 
by  contrast  the  sadness  which  depressed  my  spirit. 
And  yet  I  would  not  have  surrendered  this  melan- 
choly in  exchange  for  the  light  heart  of  two  months 
earlier — before  I  met  Tilling.  For  even  if  my  love 
should  prove — what  from  all  present  prospects  it 
promised  to  be — an  unhappy  one,  still  it  was  love, 
that  is,  the  climax  of  life's  intensity. 

Some  days  later,  when  my  parlors  were  filled 
with  other  guests,  Tilling  was  announced.  My 
delight  in  seeing  him  was  speedily  clouded  by  the 
announcement  that  this  was  a  final  visit,  as  he  ex- 
pected to  leave  Vienna  in  a  few  days  for  another 
post  in  Hungary. 

"  That  is  a  rash  conclusion.  What  has  Vienna 
done  that  you  wish  to  leave? "  I  asked,  with  an 
effort  at  self-control. 

"  It  is  too  gay  and  pleasure-loving.  I  am  not  in 
the  mood  to  join  in  it  and  it  depresses  me." 

"  The  best  thing  to  shake  that  out  of  you,  Til- 
ling," said  my  father,  "would  be  a  right  fresh,  breezy 
war;  but  unfortunately  there  seems  no  prospect  of 
one." 

"  Chance  is  always  in  your  favor,  Colonel  Tilling," 
said  a  cabinet  minister  present;  "not  that  there  are 
any  dark  clouds  on  the  horizon  now,  but  it  takes 
but  a  little,  in  the  present  condition  of  European 
politics,  to  cause  an  outbreak.  As  Minister  of  the 
Interior  I  am  naturally  anxious  for  peace,  but  I  am 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  69 

willing  to  recognize  the  different  standpoint  from 
which  military  men  regard  it." 

"Allow  me  to  assure  your  Excellency,"  inter- 
rupted Tilling,  "that  I  am  far  from  desiring  war, 
and  I  protest  against  the  idea  that  the  military 
standpoint  should  be  any  different  from  that  of  the 
humane  one.  We  are  here  to  defend  our  country 
when  attacked,  just  as  the  fire  department  stands 
in  readiness  to  put  out  a  fire.  Both  war  and  fire 
are  misfortunes  with  which  no  humane  man  could 
wish  to  afflict  his  fellow  creatures.  Peace  is  the 
highest  good,  or  rather  it  is  the  absence  of  the 
greatest  evil.  It  is  the  only  condition  which  con- 
duces to  the  welfare  of  the  whole  nation,  and  yet 
you  would  recognize  the  right  of  a  portion  of  the 
people — the  army — from  motives  of  grossly  per- 
sonal ambition,  to  desire  to  precipitate  the  greatest 
misery  and  suffering  upon  all.  To  carry  on  war  in 
order  that  the  army  may  be  kept  busy  and  satisfied 
is  like  applying  the  torch  to  houses  in  order  to 
employ  the  fire  department." 

"Your  comparison  is  not  apt,  Lieutenant-Colo- 
nel," said  my  father,  laying  stress  upon  the  title,  as 
if  wishing  to  remind  Tilling  of  his  military  duty. 
"  Fires  cause  only  disaster,  while  wars  tend  to  in- 
crease the  power  and  glory  of  the  country.  How 
could  nations  otherwise  develop  and  extend  their 
territory  except  through  conquest?  Personal  am- 
bition is  not  the  only  motive  of  the  gallant  soldier; 
above  all  it  is  the  national,  the  patriotic  spirit 
which  leads  him  to  desire  war." 

"Oh,  this  love  of  country!"  exclaimed  Tilling 
impatiently.  "  I  do  not  see  by  what  right  the  mili- 
tary profession  should  claim  patriotism  as  their  own 
special  and  peculiar  quality.  Every  one  loves  the 
soil  upon  which  he  has  taken  root;  all  wish,  ar- 
dently wish,  for  the  happiness,  development  and 
glory  of  their  native  land.  There  are  other  ways 
to  fame  than  through  violence;  we  can  be  proud  of 
other  things  than  feats  of  war.  Personally  I  ad- 
mire Anastasius  Griin  more  than  any  commanding 
general  I  can  remember." 


70  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  How  can  you  compare  a  poet  and  a  soldier," 
exclaimed  my  father. 

"  The  bloodless  crown  of  laurel  is,  undoubtedly, 
the  finer,"  answered  Tilling. 

"  But,  Baron  Tilling,"  expostulated  Aunt  Marie, 
"I  never  heard  a  soldier  talk  so.  What  would 
become  of  the  martial  spirit?" 

"When  I  was  a  nineteen-year-old  boy,  making 
my  first  campaign,  I  was  filled  with  it.  After  I  had 
seen  the  reality  of  the  slaughter,  and  witnessed  the 
brutality  of  war,  that  martial  spirit  died  out  and  I 
entered  upon  every  other  campaign  with  loyalty, 
but  with  no  martial  ardor." 

"  Now,  see  here,  Tilling,"  replied  my  father,  "  I 
have  been  through  as  many  campaigns  as  you  and 
witnessed  all  their  terrors,  but  I  went  into  the  last, 
even  when  getting  to  be  an  old  man,  with  the  same 
zeal  as  the  first." 

"  Pardon  me,  Excellency,  but  you  belong  to  an 
older  generation,  a  generation  when  the  martial 
spirit  was  much  stronger  than  with  us,  and  to  a 
time  when  that  sympathy  with  humanity  which 
now  permeates  all  society,  and  anxiously  desires  to 
ameliorate  all  misery,  had  not  yet  been  born." 

"  What  can  you  do?  Suffering  must  exist  for- 
ever. You  cannot  get  rid  of  it  any  more  than  you 
can  banish  war." 

"  There,  Count  Althaus,  with  those  words  you 
define  the  old  attitude,  now  fortunately  untenable, 
with  which  the  past  met  every  social  evil — that 
of  resignation  to  what  it  deemed  unavoidable  and 
founded  on  the  nature  of  things.  But  so  soon  as 
the  heart  begins  to  question,  '  Is  it  necessary? '  no 
longer  can  that  heart  cold-bloodedly  contemplate 
it.  With  sympathy  grows  up  a  sort  of  penitence — 
not  personal,  but  which  one  might  define  as  the 
reproach  of  the  conscience  of  the  times." 

My  father  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That  is  too  lofty  for  me.  I  can  assure  you 
that  not  only  we  grandfathers  look  back  with  pride 
and  joy  on  all  our  past  campaigns,  but  the  very 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  71 

youngest  of  our  soldiers  to-day,  when  asked  if  he 
goes  into  the  field  willingly,  would  reply:  'Will- 
ingly— yes,  joyfully.' " 

"The  youngest — that  is  true.  Have  we  not 
drilled  enthusiasm  into  them  at  school.  And  of  the 
others  many  would  reply  'willingly'  for  fear  of  the 
reputation  of  cowardice  did  they  speak  the  truth." 

"Yes,"  said  Lilli  with  a  shudder,  "I  should  be 
afraid.  It  must  be  horrible  to  stand  with  bullets 
flying  around  you,  any  moment  awaiting  death." 

"That  all  sounds  very  natural  from  girlish  lips," 
answered  Tilling.  "  But  we  must  repress  all  in- 
stinctive feeling.  Soldiers  must  deny  all  sympathy 
for  the  suffering  of  friend  or  foe,  for  next  to  fear, 
every  sentiment  of  tenderness  or  mercy  is  a  like 
reproach." 

"  Only  in  war,  dear  Tilling,"  said  my  father, 
"  only  in  war;  in  private  life,  thank  God,  we  have 
tender  hearts." 

"Yes,  I  know;  that  is  a  sort  of  hocus-pocus  trans- 
formation. So  soon  as  war  is  declared  one  hears 
of  all  atrocities  with  a  careless  '  it  is  to  be  expected 
— it  matters  not.'  Murder  is  no  longer  murder; 
robbery  is  no  longer  robbery — but  requisition; 
burning  villages  represents  only  'secured  position.' 
Of  all  defiance  of  the  moral  law,  of  humanity,  or  of 
decency,  we  hear  only  so  long  as  the  contest  lasts, 
'  It  is  of  no  consequence.'  'It  is  to  be  expected!' 
But  when  in  the  abyss  of  such  general  demoraliza- 
tion there  arises  the  consciousness  that  it  does  mat- 
ter to  be  rid  of  this  mass  of  crime  and  misery,  and 
responsibility  in  its  existence,  one  would  almost 
welcome  death." 

"  Certainly  it  is  true,"  said  Aunt  Marie  reflect- 
ively. "  Such  commands  as:  Thou  shalt  not  kill — 
Thou  shalt  not  steal — Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself 
— Forgive  thine  enemies " 

"  Do  not  apply,"  said  Tilling.  "  And  those  whose 
profession  it  is  to  teach  these  laws  are  the  first  to 
consecrate  our  banners  and  call  down  the  blessing 
of  Heaven  upon  our  slaughter  fields." 


72  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

•'And  with  justice,"  said  my  father,  "for  the  God 
of  the  Bible  is  the  God  of  Battles,  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 
It  is  he  who  has  commanded  us  to  draw  the  sword; 
it  is  he " 

"Whose  decrees  men  are  always  construing  to 
suit  their  own  convenience,  and  to  whom  they  then 
ascribe  the  great  law  of  love.  Just  so  vindictive,  ex- 
actly so  inconsequent,  exactly  so  childish  as  them- 
selves, is  the  imaginary  God  whom  human  beings 
have  set  up  as  the  embodiment  of  even-handed 
justice  and  mercy.  But  forgive  me,  Countess,"  said 
Tilling  rising,  "that  I  have  caused  so  wearisome  a 
discussion.  I  must  say  good-by." 

I  was  overcome  with  emotion.  How  could  it  be 
possible  to  allow  this  man,  dearer  to  me  than  ever, 
to  go  from  me  without  one  word  of  protest. 

I  rose  with  him  and  walking  slowly  down  the 
room  said  quietly: 

"I  must  show  you  the  photograph  I  told  you 
about  the  other  day." 

Tilling  looked  surprised,  but  followed  me  to  a 
table  at  a  distance  from  the  other  guests. 

"  I  cannot  let  you  go.    I  must  speak  to  you." 

"  As  you  will,  Countess.     I  am  listening." 

"  No,  not  now.  You  must  come  to-morrow  at 
this  hour." 

He  appeared  to  waver. 

"I  insist.  By  the  memory  of  your  mother  whose 
loss  I  mourned  with  you." 

"  O  Martha! " 

We  understood  each  other,  and  bowing  to  the 
company  Tilling  withdrew. 

I  looked  forward  to  the  meeting  with  a  mingling 
of  impatience  and  apprehension.  Suppose  Til- 
ling were  to  propose  the  critical  question,  "Now 
then,  Countess,  what  did  you  wish  to  say  to  me?" 
I  could  not  say  to  the  man:  "I  have  to  inform  you 
that  I  am  in  love  with  you;  therefore  I  desire  you 
to  remain."  While  I  was  reflecting  upon  this  diffi- 
culty Tilling  was  announced. 

"  I  am  happy  to  see  you,  Baron  Tilling." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  73 

"And  I  am  happy  that  you  invited  me  to  come  in 
the  name  of  my  mother.  I  have  determined  to 
tell  you  all  that  troubles  me.  I — " 

"  Well — why  do  you  hesitate? " 

"  It  is  more  difficult  to  speak  than  I  thought." 

"You  showed  some  confidence  in  me  when  you 
wrote  during  that  sad  night  when  you  watched  by 
your  mother's  deathbed.  How  does  it  happen  you 
have  no  faith  in  me  now?" 

"  In  that  dreadful  hour  I  forgot  myself;  since 
then  my  old  timidity  has  taken  possession  of  me. 
I  see  now  I  had  no  right,  and  for  fear  of  repeating 
my  offense  I  was  going  away." 

"So  it  seems;  you  appear  to  avoid  me — why?" 

"Why?     Because — because  I  love  you." 

I  made  no  response  and  Tilling  was  silent. 
Desperately  I  broke  the  silence. 

"  Why  were  you  going  to  leave  Vienna?" 

"For  the  same  reason." 

"Could  you  not  now  determine  otherwise?" 

"  Yes,  I  could — the  transfer  has  not  yet  been 
ordered." 

"Then  remain." 

He  grasped  my  hand — "  Martha." 

At  this  moment  my  father  opened  the  door. 

"  You  are  there?  The  servant  said  you  were 
not  at  home,  but  I  told  him  you  expected  me. 
Good  day,  Tilling.  After  last  night's  farewell  I 
am  surprised  to  see  you.  I  have  an  important 
family  affair  to  report  to  you,  Martha." 

I  wished  papa  with  his  family  matter  at  the  an- 
tipodes. Tilling  rose. 

"When  can  I  see  you  again?"  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"To-morrow  at  nine  o'clock,  on  horseback  in  the 
Prater,"  I  replied  quickly  in  the  same  tone. 

"Now  what  does  this  mean?"  demanded  my 
father  as  the  door  closed  after  Tilling. 

"What  is  the  family  affair  you  speak  of?" 

"  It  is  this  very  thing.  I  wanted  to  drive  your 
admirer  away  in  order  to  express  my  opinion.  I 


74  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

regard  it  as  a  very  important  matter  that  you, 
Countess  Dotzky,  born  Althaus,  should  not  imperil 
your  reputation." 

"Allow  me  to  tell  you,  Father,  that  the  surest 
protection  of  my  honor  is  my  son,  Rudolph,  and  to 
remind  you  that  I  am  responsible  to  no  one  for  my 
actions.  I  have  no  intention  of  accepting  a  lover, 
but  I  do  mean  to  marry  and  to  choose  as  my  own 
heart  dictates." 

"Marry  Tilling!  What  are  you  thinking  about? 
That  would  be  a  family  misfortune." 

"  Why,  what  would  you  have?  Lately  you  offered 
me  a  captain,  a  lieutenant,  and  a  major.  Tilling 
outranks  them  all — he  is  lieutenant-colonel." 

"  So  much  the  worse.  A  man  with  his  opinions 
has  no  business  to  be  in  the  army;  they  border  on 
treason.  Perhaps  he  would  like  to  resign,  and  as 
he  has  no  property  a  rich  widow  is  an  enticing 
prize.  But  I  hope  to  God  that  a  woman,  the 
daughter  of  an  old  soldier  who  has  fought  in  four 
wars  and  is  willing  to  go  out  again,  and  the  widow 
of  a  gallant  young  soldier  who  died  on  the  field  of 
honor  a  noble  death, — will  not  so  sacrifice  herself." 

I  was  profoundly  outraged.  All  this  repetition  of 
hollow  phrases,  meeting  me  at  every  turn  of  life, 
sickened  and  disgusted  me.  It  was  impossible  to 
make  my  father  understand  the  ethical  position  of 
Tilling  as  a  man  and  thinker,  and  useless  to  argue 
with  him.  I  was  fortunately  free,  and  in  my  great 
happiness  I  could  not  allow  such  paltry  attacks  to 
trouble  me. 

It  was  not  quite  nine  o'clock  when  I  left  my  car- 
riage, at  the  entrance  of  the  Prater  bridle  path,  and 
mounted  my  horse,  which  had  been  sent  in  advance. 
I  had  scarce  ridden  a  hundred  yards  when  I  heard 
the  sharp  trot  of  a  horse  behind  me.  It  was  the 
inevitable  Conrad.  The  meeting  was  not  a  joyful 
one  to  me.  Certainly  I  did  not  own  the  Prater, 
and  on  such  lovely  mornings  the  bridle  path  was 
apt  to  be  thronged.  How  could  I  have  been  so 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  75 

foolish  as  to  expect  an  undisturbed  rendezvous. 
Althaus  had  drawn  his  horse  up  to  the  gait  of 
mine,  evidently  determined  to  be  my  faithful  cava- 
lier. I  saw  Tilling  galloping  in  the  distance. 

"  Cousin,  is  it  not  true  I  have  been  a  good  ally  of 
yours.  You  know  what  pains  I  have  taken  to  inter- 
est Lilli  in  you." 

"Yes,  noblest  of  cousins." 

"  Only  last  night  I  seized  the  opportunity  to 
exploit  your  good  qualities, — for  you  are  a  fine  fel- 
low, charming,  considerate " 

"  Now  what  do  you  want  of  me? " 

"  That  you  give  your  horse  a  good  whipping  and 
gallop  on." 

Tilling  was  very  close.  Conrad  looked  at  him, 
then  at  me,  and  without  saying  a  word,  he  laugh- 
ingly nodded  and  flew  away  as  if  he  were  pos- 
sessed. 

"  That  Althaus  again,"  said  Tilling  in  a  dissatis- 
fied tone.  "Did  he  leave  because  he  saw  me,  or 
has  his  horse  run  away?" 

"  I  sent  him  away  because " 

"  Countess  Martha,  do  you  know  that  the  world 
says  he  is  in  love  with  his  cousin?" 

"That  is  true." 

"And  courts  her  furiously." 

"  That  is  also  true." 

"And  not  hopelessly." 

"  Not  quite  hopelessly." 

Tilling  was  silent.     I  looked  at  him  laughingly. 

"Your  looks  contradict  your  last  words,"  he 
said  after  a  pause,  "  for  your  glance  seems  to  say, 
'Althaus  loves  me  hopelessly.'" 

"  He  does  not  love  me  at  all.  The  object  of  his 
devotion  is  my  sister  Lilli." 

"  You  roll  a  stone  from  my  heart.  This  man  was 
the  cause  of  my  wishing  to  leave  Vienna.  I  could 
not  endure  to  see " 

"  What  other  grounds  had  you  for  leaving  Vi- 
enna?" I  interrupted. 

"  The  dread  that  I  could  no  longer  conceal  my 


76  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

passion  for  you — that  I  might  make  myself  both 
ridiculous  and  unhappy." 

"Are  you  unhappy  this  morning?" 

"  O  Martha!  Since  yesterday  I  have  lived  in  such 
a  tumult  of  emotion  that  I  have  scarce  known  my- 
self. It  has  not  been  without  anxiety — as  when 
one  has  pleasant  dreams — that  I  might  be  suddenly 
awakened  to  a  painful  reality.  What  prospects  has 
such  a  love  as  mine.  What  can  I  offer  you?  To- 
morrow, or  perhaps  a  little  later,  you  will  with- 
draw the  undeserved  favor  and  I  will  be  plunged 
into  the  depths  of  despair.  I  do  not  know  myself 
when  I  talk  in  such  an  extravagant  style.  I  have 
been  usually  a  cool,  prudent  man,  the  enemy  of  all 
excess  of  feeling;  it  is  in  your  power  to  make  me 
happy  or  miserable." 

"Relieve  me  from  one  doubt,  the  princess?" 

"  Oh,  have  you  heard  that  nonsense? " 

"Of  course  you  would  deny  it.  That  is  your 
duty." 

"  The  lady  in  question,  whose  heart  is  now  inter- 
ested in  the  Bury  Theatre — for  how  long  no  one 
knows,  for  she  is  fickle — is  so  well  known  that  the 
most  discreet  of  men  would  not  feel  obliged  to 
maintain  the  silence  of  the  grave,  so  you  may  be- 
lieve me.  But  reflect:  would  I  have  left  Vienna 
if  the  report  were  true?" 

"Jealousy  knows  no  logic.  Is  it  likely  I  had  in- 
vited you  to  meet  me  if  I  had  expected  to  see  my 
cousin  Conrad?  I  cannot  comprehend  why  you 
should  have  kept  away  from  me." 

"  Because  I  never  dared  hope  that  I  might  win 
you.  Only  when  you  appealed  to  me  in  the  name 
of  my  mother  did  I  understand  that  you  cared  a 
little — just  a  little — for  me." 

"  So,  if  I  had  not  '  thrown  myself  at  your  head ' 
you  would  not  have  made  the  attempt?" 

"  You  have  so  many  admirers — I  did  not  want  to 
be  counted  among  them." 

"  Oh,  they  do  not  amount  to  anything.  They  are 
mostly  only  interested  in  the  rich  widow " 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  77 

"  There,  now,  you  have  touched  the  very  point 
which  held  me  back — a  rich  widow,  and  I  entirely 
without  fortune.  I  would  rather  be  miserable 
through  an  unfortunate  attachment  than  be  ac- 
cused by  the  world  and  by  the  woman  I  worship 
of  the  motive  you  ascribe  to  your  other  admirers." 

"My  dear,  my  noble  Tilling.  It  would  not  be 
possible  for  me  to  make  such  an  accusation." 

From  the  Prater  I  drove  to  my  father's  house.  I 
realized  that  the  announcement  I  had  to  make 
would  be  unpleasant  to  him,  but  I  was  determined 
to  have  it  over  as  soon  as  possible.  My  father, 
being  a  late  riser,  was  reading  the  paper  while  at 
breakfast.  Aunt  Marie  was  also  present.  Both 
looked  up  with  astonishment  at  my  abrupt  entrance. 

"I  have  been  riding  in  the  Prater,"  I  explained, 
as  I  embraced  them  both,  "  where  an  event  oc- 
curred of  which  I  wish  to  inform  you  without 
delay." 

"  Indeed,"  said  my  father  dryly  as  he  lit  a.  cigar, 
"so  formal  an  announcement  excites  the  liveliest 
curiosity." 

"I  have  promised  to  marry " 

Aunt  Marie  threw  up  her  hands  and  my  father, 
frowning,  exclaimed: 

"  I  can  only  hope  " — he  began. 

I  would  not  allow  him  to  continue.  "  I  have 
promised  to  marry  a  man  whom  I  love  and  respect 
with  all  my  heart,  who  I  am  sure  will  make  me 
happy — Baron  Frederick  von  Tilling." 

My  father  sprang  up:  "After  all  I  said  to  you 
yesterday." 

Aunt  Marie  shook  her  head.  "I  had  rather  have 
heard  another  name.  In  the  first  place  Baron  Tilling 
is  not  a  good  match;  he  has  nothing,  and  his  views 
are  so  peculiar." 

"  His  principles  and  views  in  general  are  after 
my  own  heart,  and  I  am  not  hunting  a  good  match, 
as  you  call  it.  But  Father,  my  dear  old  father,  do 
not  look  so  angry;  do  not  mar  my  happiness  by 
making  me  feel  your  displeasure." 


78  "GROUND  ARM  SI" 

"  But,  child,"  he  said,  in  somewhat  softened  tone, 
for  a  little  tenderness  usually  disarmed  him,  "  I 
only  desire  your  happiness.  I  could  not  be  happy 
with  a  man  who  is  not  heart  and  soul  a  soldier." 

"  You  do  not  have  to  marry  him,"  remarked  Aunt 
Marie  judicially.  "His  soldier  notions  are  of  no 
consequence,"  she  added.  "  But  I  could  not  be 
happy  with  a  man  who  could  speak  of  the  God  of 
the  Bible  with  such  lack  of  reverence." 

"  Allow  me  to  remark,  dear  Aunt,  that  you  do 
not  have  to  marry  him  either." 

"Each  man's  desire  is  his  own  heaven,"  sighed 
my  father  as  he  seated  himself.  "  I  suppose  he 
will  resign." 

"We  have  not  spoken  of  it,  and  I  most  earnestly 
desire  it,  but  I  fear  he  will  not." 

"  When  I  remember  that  you  rejected  a  prince," 
ejaculated  Aunt  Marie,  "and  now  instead  of  rising 
will  descend  in  the  social  scale! " 

"  How  unkind  you  both  are!  and  I  had  believed 
that  you  loved  me.  Here  I  come  to  you,  the  first 
time  since  poor  Arno's  death,  with  the  assurance 
that  I  am  happy,  and  instead  of  rejoicing  you  drag 
out  all  sorts  of  bitter  reasons  to  reproach  me  with 
— the  military  service,  Jehovah,  social  position!  " 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  I  succeeded  in  some- 
what reconciling  the  two  old  people  to  the  inevi- 
table, and  my  father  promised  to  come  to  my  house 
the  same  evening  to  receive  his  future  son-in-law. 
I  invited  all  my  relatives  to  tea  and  presented  Til- 
ling to  them  as  my  betrothed. 

Rosa  and  Lilli  were  delighted;  Conrad  Althaus 
cried:  "Bravo,  Martha!  and  you,  Lilli,  profit  by  the 
example."  My  father  was  kind  and  courteous,  and 
Aunt  Marie  overflowing  with  sentiment. 

"Marriages  are  made  in  heaven,"  she  said,  "and 
happen  just  as  they  are  ordained.  With  God's 
blessing  you  will  be  happy,  and  I  shall  pray  inces- 
santly that  his  blessing  may  descend  upon  you." 

My  son  Rudolph  was  presented  to  his  "new 
papa,"  and  Frederick  lifted  him  in  his  arms,  kiss- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  79 

ing  him  as  he  said:  "We  will  both  try,  my  little 
fellow,  to  make  a  good  man  of  you." 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  my  father  hinted  at 
his  idea  that  Tilling  would  retire  from  the  service. 

Frederick  threw  up  his  head  in  astonishment. 

"  Resign — abandon  my  career!  I  have  no  other. 
One  does  not  need  to  be  a  friend  of  war  to  do  faith- 
ful service  in  the  army." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know;  just  as  you  said  lately  the 
fireman  need  not  want  to  set  a  house  on  fire." 

"I  could  suggest  other  illustrations:  need  a  phy- 
sician love  cancers  and  typhus,  or  a  judge  have 
a  particular  zest  for  burglary  and  murder?  But 
abandon  my  profession!  What  reason  could  I  have 
for  doing  so?" 

"Reason  enough,"  said  Aunt  Marie,  "to  spare 
your  wife  garrison  life  and  anxiety  in  case  of  war. 
Although  this  anxiety  is  nonsense;  for  if  a  man 
is  destined  to  live  to  old  age,  he  will  come  safely 
through  all  dangers." 

"The  reasons  given  are  certainly  important;  it 
will  be  my  earnest  endeavor  to  spare  my  wife  as 
much  as  possible  all  the  anxieties  of  life.  But  the 
unpleasant  circumstance  of  having  a  husband  with- 
out profession  or  occupation  would  be  worse  than 
garrison  life.  And  the  risk  that  my  'resignation 
would  be  ascribed  to  indolence  or  cowardice  would 
be  far  more  than  the  dangers  of  a  campaign.  I 
have  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  for  a  moment. 
I  trust  you  have  not,  Martha? " 

"Suppose  I  made  it  a  condition?" 

"You  would  not  do  that?  I  should  be  obliged  to 
sacrifice  my  happiness.  You  are  rich,  I  possess 
nothing  except  my  pay  and  the  prospect  of  pro- 
motion; I  will  not  surrender  these.  It  would  be  a 
lowering  of  my  dignity  and  contrary  to  my  idea  of 
honor." 

"Right,  my  son;  now  I  am  reconciled!"  exclaimed 
my  father.  "  It  would  be  an  outrage  to  abandon 
your  career.  You  will  soon  be  colonel,  probably  a 
general,  and  may  hope  to  be  division  commander 


80  "  GRO  UND  A  RMS  !  " 

or  minister  of  war.  That  will  give  your  wife  a 
notable  position." 

I  was  silent.  I  was  little  affected  by  the  prospect 
of  being  the  wife  of  a  division  commander.  I  would 
far  rather  live  in  retirement  upon  one  of  our  estates; 
still  the  standpoint  of  Frederick  met  my  approval. 

"Yes,  quite  reconciled,"  continued  my  father. 
"  For  to  tell  the  truth — now  you  need  not  look  so 
black — I  thought  you  would  desire  to  retire  to  pri- 
vate life.  But  so  far  as  Martha  is  concerned,  you 
could  scarce  expect  a  soldier's  daughter  and  a 
soldier's  widow  to  be  willing  to  join  the  ranks  of 
the  civilians." 

Tilling  laughed.  He  glanced  at  me  as  if  to  say, 
"I  know  you  better,"  but  said  aloud: 

"  Oh,  I  presume  she  fell  in  love  with  my  uni- 
form." 

We  were  married  in  September  of  the  same  year. 
My  husband  had  two  months'  leave  of  absence. 
We  spent  a  week  in  Berlin,  and  our  first  visit  there 
was  to  the  sister  of  Frederick's  mother.  I  could 
judge  from  the  amiability  and  intellectual  character 
of  this  lady  what  Frederick's  mother  must  have 
been,  as  they  were  said  greatly  to  resemble  each 
other.  Frau  Cornelia  von  Tessow  was  the  widow 
of  a  Prussian  general;  she  had  an  only  son  who 
had  just  become  a  lieutenant.  I  have  never  seen 
a  handsomer  young  man  than  Gottfried  Tessow. 
The  devotion  of  mother  and  son  was  touching. 

"  How  can  a  mother  who  loves  her  son  as  the  very 
apple  of  her  eye  allow  him  to  adopt  so  dangerous 
a  profession  as  that  of  arms,"  I  said  to  Frederick. 

"There  are  some  facts  which  no  one  considers, 
some  risks  which  no  one  ever  contemplates.  One 
of  these  is  the  thought  of  the  danger  of  the 
soldier's  life.  If  the  idea  is  even  suggested,  one 
feels  as  if  it  were  unmanly  and  cowardly  to  con- 
sider it  at  all.  It  has  now  become  so  universally 
accepted  that  this  danger  must  be  met,  and  at  the 
Same  time  the  percentage  of  those  who  fall  is  so 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  81 

much  less  than  of  those  who  escape,  that  no  one 
ever  thinks  about  the  chances  of  death.  Every 
human  being  knows  he  must  some  time  die,  and 
really,  what  pleasanter  and  more  reputable  position 
can  a  Prussian  nobleman  attain  than  that  of  a  cav- 
alry officer." 

We  spent  our  time  at  the  different  fashionable 
resorts  and  I  discovered  new  accomplishments  in 
Frederick,  that  he  spoke  English  and  French  well, 
while  his  refined  enjoyment  of  music,  art,  and  every 
fresh  landscape  added  to  my  delight. 

Upon  our  return  we  joined  Frederick's  regiment, 
then  stationed  at  Olmiitz.  No  congenial  compan- 
ionship was  to  be  found  in  the  place,  and  we  with- 
drew entirely  from  society.  Excepting  the  hours 
necessarily  spent  by  Frederick  in  his  official  duties, 
and  by  myself  with  my  little  Rudolph,  we  devoted 
our  whole  time  to  each  other.  I  exchanged  the 
first  necessary  visits  of  ceremony  with  the  ladies 
of  the  garrison,  but  would  not  allow  an  intimate 
acquaintance.  I  could  not  endure  the  scandal,, 
servant-girl  stories,  and  general  gossip  of  their 
coffee  parties,  and  Frederick  had  an  equal  distaste 
for  the  card  and  drinking  parties  of  the  officers. 
We  had  other  and  better  things  to  do.  The  world 
in  which  we  moved  as  we  sat  by  our  steaming  tea- 
kettle was  millions  of  miles  apart  from  that  of  the 
Olmiitz  garrison.  We  joyfully  took  up  a  course  of 
scientific  reading,  and  with  liveliest  sympathy  kept 
pace  with  the  advancing  thought  of  the  world's, 
earnest  workers;  not  alone  in  science,  but  in  all  the 
social  and  philanthropic  development  of  the  age 
we  took  an  interested  part. 

The  Christmas  holidays  we  spent  at  my  father's 
house  in  Vienna.  On  Christmas  Eve  the  family 
were  joined  by  Doctor  Bresser  and  his  Excellency 
"  Upon  the  Whole,"  who  chanced,  in  answer  to  a 
casual  question,  to  say  in  my  hearing: 

"  It  is  true.  There  are  heavy,  dark,  and  porten- 
tous clouds  on  the  political  horizon." 


82  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

I  shrank  in  terror. 

"What!  How!  What  do  you  mean?"  I  cried 
anxiously. 

"  Denmark  is  getting  too  audacious." 

"Ah,  Denmark,"  I  said,  relieved.  "The  storm 
does  not  threaten  us.  It  is  in  any  event  distress- 
ing to  hear  of  a  prospect  of  war,  but  when  I  am 
told  the  Danes  and  not  the  Austrians  are  concerned, 
I  feel  compassion  but  not  terror." 

"  You  need  not  alarm  yourself,"  cried  my  father, 
"  in  case  Austria  is  drawn  into  it.  If  we  must 
maintain  the  rights  of  Schleswig-Holstein  against 
the  violence  of  Denmark,  we  shall  not  lose  any- 
thing. There  will  be  no  risk  of  loss  of  territory 
even  in  the  event  of  an  unfortunate  campaign." 

"  How  can  you  believe,  Father,  that  if  our  troops 
march  over  the  border  I  would  think  of  any  such 
thing  as  Austrian  territory,  Schleswig-Holstein 
rights,  or  Danish  arrogance?  I  should  see  but  one 
thing,  the  danger  of  those  I  love.  And  that  re- 
mains the  same,  no  matter  upon  what  grounds  war 
is  begun." 

"My  child,  the  fate  of  the  individual  cannot  be 
considered  when  events  involving  the  world's  his- 
tory are  at  stake.  So  soon  as  war  breaks  out, 
whether  this  or  that  man  fall  becomes  of  no  con- 
sequence in  view  of  the  mighty  question  whether 
the  cause  of  our  own  land  shall  be  lost  or  won. 
And,  as  I  said,  should  we  cross  swords  with  the 
Danes,  nothing  is  lost  and  we  may  thereby  extend 
our  influence  in  the  German  Alliance.  I  dream 
continually  of  the  time  when  the  Hapsburgs  shall 
recover  the  German  imperial  crown,  to  which  they 
are  entitled.  I  would  regard  the  war  with  Den- 
mark a  fit  opportunity,  not  only  to  wipe  out  the 
disgrace  of  '59,  but  also  so  to  secure  our  position 
in  the  German  empire  that  we  could  indemnify 
ourselves  for  the  loss  of  Lombardy,  and  perhaps, — 
who  knows? — so  increase  our  power  that  we  might 
reconquer  that  province." 

I  looked  across  the  room  where  Frederick,  un- 


"GROUND  ARMS!''  83 

conscious  of  this  conversation,  was  having  a  laugh- 
ing wit  encounter  with  Lilli.  An  agonizing  pain 
possessed  my  soul;  a  pain  which  in  one  moment 
revealed  a  host  of  possibilities.  War, — and  he,  my 
all,  must  go,  to  be  wounded,  perhaps  killed.  Our 
child,  yet  unborn,  to  be  brought  fatherless  into  the 
world, — our  happiness,  so  short-lived,  to  be  cut 
off, — this  danger  in  one  balance,  and  in  the  other? 
Austria's  position  in  the  German  Alliance,  the  inde- 
pendence of  Schleswig-Holstein,  "fresh  laurels  in 
the  army's  crown  of  glory  " — a  few  poor  phrases 
for  school  orations  and  army  proclamations.  And 
yet  victory  or  defeat  remained  alike  uncertain. 
Not  only  my  individual  suffering  would  be  staked 
against  the  pretended  welfare  of  the  realm,  but 
that  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  other  individ- 
uals in  my  own  and  in  the  enemy's  country.  Ah, 
if  it  were  only  possible  to  turn  aside  this  monstrous 
thing?  If  all  united — all  reasonable,  just,  and  right- 
eous folk — to  banish  this  threatening,  hideous  evil. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  said  to  his  Excellency,  "  has  the 
matter  gone  so  far?  Do  you  diplomatists  and  poli- 
ticians not  know  how  to  prevent  this  conflict?" 

"  Do  you  think,  Baroness,  that  it  is  always  our 
duty  to  maintain  peace?  It  would  be  a  noble  mis- 
sion, but  impracticable.  We  are  charged  to  guard 
the  interests  of  our  respective  states  and  dynasties, 
to  watch  against  any  threatened  infringement  of 
their  powers,  and  to  seize  every  opportunity  for 
supremacy,  jealously  to  maintain  the  honor  of  the 
land,  and  to  revenge  insult." 

"  In  short,"  I  said  bitterly,  "  according  to  the 
maxims  of  war,  to  injure  the  enemy — that  is,  every 
other  state — to  the  utmost  of  your  ability,  and  if 
the  struggle  is  prospective,  to  maintain,  stiff-neck- 
edly,  that  you  are  in  the  right,  even  if  well  aware 
that  you  are  in  the  wrong." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Until  both  sides  lose  patience  and  fly  at  each 
other's  throats.  It  is  horrible." 


84  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  It  is  the  only  resource.  How  else  could  a  con- 
test between  nations  be  decided?" 

"  How  are  contests  between  respectable  citizens 
settled?" 

"Through  courts  of  law.  The  nations  recog- 
nize none  such." 

"Just  as  the  barbarian  does  not,"  exclaimed 
Doctor  Bresser.  "  Nations  are  in  their  mutual  in- 
tercourse still  uncivilized,  and  it  will  be  a  long  time 
before  they  will  rise  to  the  sense  of  the  justice  of 
an  international  tribunal." 

"That  will  never  be,"  said  my  father.  "  There  are 
things  that  can  only  be  fought  out,  and  cannot  be 
settled  by  legal  process.  Even  were  the  attempt 
made  to  establish  such  a  jurisdiction,  the  more 
powerful  states  would  never  submit  to  it  any  more 
than  two  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  had  insulted  the 
other,  would  carry  their  difference  into  the  courts. 
They  would  simply  choose  their  seconds  and  settle 
it  with  their  swords." 

"The  duel  is  a  barbarous,  an  inhuman  custom." 

"You  cannot  alter  it,  Doctor." 

"  I  would  at  least  not  approve  it,  your  Excellency." 

"  What  do  you  say,  Frederick,"  said  my  father, 
turning  to  his  son-in-law.  "Are  you  of  the  opinion 
that  after  a  box  on  the  ear  you  should  go  into  the 
courts  and  get  five  florin  damages." 

"I  would  not  do  it." 

"You  would  challenge  the  offender?" 

"Certainly." 

"  Aha,  Martha!  aha,  Doctor  !  "  cried  my  father 
triumphantly.  "  Did  you  hear?  Even  Tilling,  who 
is  no  friend  of  war,  acknowledges  to  being  an  advo- 
cate of  the  duel." 

"  An  advocate?  I  have  not  said  that.  I  only  said, 
that  in  certain  cases  I  would  of  course  resort  to 
the  duel — as  I  have  several  times  been  obliged 
to  do,  just  as  I  have  from  loyal  obligation  entered 
every  campaign.  I  conform  to  popular  prejudice 
as  to  laws  of  honor.  But  I  do  not  mean  it  to  be 
understood  that  this  same  code  of  honor  conforms 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  85 

to  my  ideal.  By-and-by,  when  this  ideal  attains 
the  mastery,  the  receiver  of  an  unmerited  injury 
will  not  be  regarded  as  disgraced — only  upon  the 
boorish  offender  the  disgrace  will  fall.  It  will  then 
be  considered  as  immoral  to  seek  personal  revenge, 
as  in  other  respects  in  cultivated  society  it  is  intol- 
erable to  take  the  law  into  one's  own  hands." 

'•  We  shall  wait  a  long  time  for  that,"  said  my 
father,  "so  long  as  an  aristocracy  exists." 

"That  will  not  be  forever,"  muttered  the  Doctor. 

"Oh,  so  you  would  abolish  the  aristocracy?" 

"  Yes,  the  feudal.    The  future  needs  no  nobility." 

"So  much  the  more  it  needs  noble  men,"  added 
Frederick. 

"  And  this  new  race  will  accept  a  box  on  the  ear?" 

"  There  will  be  no  one  to  offer  one." 

"  And  they  will  not  defend  themselves  when  a 
neighboring  state  falls  foul  of  them?" 

"  No  neighboring  states  will  attack  them,  just 
as  none  of  our  neighbors  attack  us  at  our  country 
seats,  and  as  the  lord  of  the  castle  no  longer  now- 
adays keeps  his  troop  of  horse." 

"  The  state  of  the  future  will  maintain  no  stand- 
ing armies?  What,  then,  will  become  of  you  lieu- 
tenant-colonels?" 

"What  has  become  of  the  feudal  squires?" 


86  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

THIRD  BOOK. 

1864. 

WE  remained  in  Vienna  two  weeks.  It  was  no 
happy  time  for  me.  This  fatal  prospect  of 
war  benumbed  every  hopeful  and  joyous  thought; 
the  instability  of  my  happiness  overmastered  me. 
The  possibilities,  which  always  surround  us,  of  sick- 
ness and  death,  of  disaster  by  fire  or  flood — nature's 
elemental  threats — we  become  so  hardened  to  that 
we  live  with  a  comfortable  sense  of  security.  Why 
has  mankind  willfully  fixed  other  barriers  to  hap- 
piness and  added  to  natural  hazards,  such  as  vol- 
canoes and  tornadoes,  the  possibility  of  war? 

I  could  no  longer  accept  this  as  the  decree  of  fate. 
Instead  of  resignation  I  felt  only  pain  and  horror. 
Why  should  we  concern  ourselves  about  the  con- 
stitution of  Denmark  and  Schleswig-Holstein?  Of 
what  consequence  to  us  was  it  whether  the  "  Pro- 
tocol Prince"  repealed  or  confirmed  the  constitu- 
tional law  of  the  thirteenth  of  November,  1863? 
All  the  newspapers  were  full  of  discussions  of  this 
question  as  if  it  were  the  most  important  matter  in 
the  world,  so  that  people  had  no  time  to  consider 
whether  it  was  worth  while  to  expose  our  husbands 
and  sons  to  the  risk  of  being  shot  down.  Only 
momentarily  could  I  become  reconciled  to  this  view 
of  the  thing  when  the  idea  of  duty  was  presented 
to  my  mind.  True  we  belonged  to  the  German 
Alliance,  and  as  German  brothers  we  must  defend 
the  rights  of  oppressed  German  kindred.  The 
national  spirit  justified  the  use  of  force;  there  was 
an  obligation  from  this  standpoint.  By  desperately 
clinging  to  this  idea  the  oppressive  anxiety  of  my 
heart  was  somewhat  lulled.  Had  I  anticipated  that 
two  years  later  this  whole  German  brotherhood 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  87 

would  be  dissolved  into  fragments  and  become  the 
bitterest  enemies,  and  that  the  present  Austrian 
hatred  of  Denmark  would  be  exceeded  by  Austrian 
hatred  of  Prussia,  I  would  have  even  then  discov- 
ered that  the  motives  which  are  proclaimed  as  jus- 
tification of  war  are  nothing  more  than  phrases. 

On  the  tenth  of  January  we  returned  to  Olmiitz. 
There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  about  the  war. 
Among  the  officers  and  their  wives  there  was  great 
excitement,  chiefly  of  a  pleasurable  kind.  The 
opportunity  for  promotion  and  distinction  made 
all  jubilant,  whether  the  motive  was  ambition,  rest- 
less desire  for  action,  or  the  longing  for  increase 
of  pay. 

"  It  will  be  a  famous  war,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"and  will  be  immensely  popular.  There  will  be 
no  damage  to  our  territory;  the  seat  of  war  is  on 
foreign  soil.  Under  such  circumstances  it  is  a 
double  pleasure  to  fight." 

"What  fills  me  with  enthusiasm,"  said  a  young 
lieutenant,  "is  the  noble  motive:  the  defense  of 
our  German  brothers.  As  the  Prussians  unite  with 
us,  we  are  secure  of  victory,  and  the  national  bonds 
will  be  drawn  still  closer.  It  is  the  national  idea." 

"  Do  not  say  much  about  that,"  replied  the  Col- 
onel almost  sternly.  "  That  kind  of  a  swindle  does 
not  suit  an  Austrian.  It  was  just  that  sort  of  a 
hobby-horse  that  Louis  Napoleon  rode  in  1859 — 
'An  Italian  Italy.'  The  whole  thing  is  unsuited  to 
the  condition  of  Austria.  Why  talk  of  a  band  of 
German  brothers  to  us?  Bohemians,  Hungarians, 
Germans,  Croats,  —  where  is  there  any  national 
bond?  We  know  but  one  motive  for  union,  the 
loyal  love  of  our  own  dynasty.  The  thing  which 
should  inspire  us  when  we  go  into  the  field  is  not 
the  circumstance  that  we  are  allies  as  Germans 
and  for  Germans,  but  that  we  are  doing  good  and 
faithful  service  for  our  beloved  ruler.  Long  live 
the  Emperor! " 

All  rose  and  pledged  the  toast.  A  spark  of  en- 
thusiasm filled  my  heart  for  a  moment.  When 


88  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

thousands  are  inspired  by  one  and  the  same  motive 
for  one  and  the  same  person,  there  is  pleasure  in 
self-sacrifice.  That  is  the  spirit  which  swells  the 
heart,  whether  we  call  it  loyalty  or  patriotism  or 
esprit  de  corps.  It  is  but  another  name  for  love, 
and  it  works  so  masterfully  that  in  its  name  the 
most  atrocious  work  of  deadly  hate,  war,  is  made 
to  seem  love's  duty. 

But  only  for  a  moment  did  it  warm  my  heart,  for 
a  stronger  love  than  that  of  country  is  the  love  for 
husband.  My  husband's  life  was  to  me  of  far 
greater  value,  and  when  this  was  at  stake  I  could 
only  curse  all  parties — whether  of  Schleswig,  Hoi- 
stein  or  Japan. 

The  days  succeeding  I  passed  in  continual 
anxiety.  On  the  sixteenth  of  January  the  allies 
demanded  that  Denmark  revoke  a  certain  decree 
against  which  the  Holstein  chambers  and  nobility 
had  protested,  invoking  at  the  same  time  the  pro- 
tection of  the  German  Alliance.  Twenty-four  hours' 
grace  was  allowed.  Denmark  naturally  refused. 
This  refusal  was  expected,  for  the  Austrian  and 
Prussian  troops  had  been  massed  on  the  border, 
and  on  the  first  of  February  they  crossed  the  Eider. 
So  then  the  die  was  cast,  the  struggle  had  begun. 
My  father  at  once  addressed  a  letter  of  congratu- 
lation to  us: 

"  Rejoice,  my  children,"  he  wrote,  "  we  have  now 
the  opportunity  to  make  good  the  defeat  of  '59  by 
dealing  a  few  sharp  blows  at  Denmark.  When  we 
return  from  the  north  as  victors  we  can  again  turn 
our  attention  to  the  south;  the  Prussians  will 
remain  our  allies  and  it  will  not  be  possible  for  the 
intriguer  Louis  Napoleon  and  the  treacherous  Ital- 
ians to  defeat  us." 

Frederick's  regiment,  to  the  great  chagrin  of  the 
Colonel,  was  not  ordered  to  the  north.  This  soon 
brought  a  letter  of  commiseration  from  my  father: 

"  I  regret  sincerely  that  Frederick  has  the  ill 
luck  to  serve  with  a  regiment  which  is  not  called 
upon  to  take  part  in  this  glorious  campaign. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  89 

Martha  will  naturally  rejoice  that  she  has  her  hus- 
band at  her  side  and  is  spared  the  anxiety,  but 
Frederick,  I  am  sure,  though  from  philanthropic 
motives  he  is  opposed  to  war,  can  but  regret,  when 
it  breaks  out,  that  he  is  not  on  the  scene,  as  his 
military  ardor  must  surely  be  aroused." 

"  Is  it  hard  for  you  to  remain  with  me,  Fred- 
erick?" I  asked,  when  we  received  this  letter. 

He  pressed  me  to  his  heart.  The  silent  answer 
was  enough. 

But  there  was  always  the  risk  that  additional 
troops  would  be  ordered  to  the  seat  of  war.  With 
the  greatest  interest  I  read  every  report  and  zeal- 
ously hoped  the  struggle  would  soon  end.  The 
wish  was  not  a  patriotic  one.  I  would  have  pre- 
ferred that  our  army  should  be  victors;  but  what  I 
vainly  hoped  for  was  the  close  of  the  war  before 
the  man  I  loved  should  be  sent  into  the  field,  and 
the  very  last  thing  I  cared  for  was  what  might  be- 
come of  the  little  scrap  of  country  concerned. 
Anxious  to  learn  what  could  be  the  "reasons  of 
state  "  to  justify  the  interference  of  the  allies,  I 
studied  the  history  of  Schleswig-Holstein. 

I  found  that  the  disputed  district  had  been  ceded 
to  Denmark  in  1027.  Then  the  Danes  were  right; 
they  were  the  legitimate  kings  of  the  country. 

Two  hundred  years  later,  however,  the  province 
was  turned  over  to  a  younger  line  of  the  royal 
house  and  was  only  regarded  as  a  Danish  fief.  In 
1326  Schleswig  was  given  over  to  Count  Gerhard 
of  Holstein,  and  the  Waldmarsch  constitution, 
which  was  then  formulated,  stipulated  that  never 
again  should  Denmark  claim  any  rights  of  owner- 
ship. Why,  if  this  was  the  case,  then  it  was  cer- 
tainly right  that  we  should  be  on  the  side  of  the 
allies;  we  fought  for  the  Waldmarsch  constitution. 
What  was  the  use  of  constitutional  law  if  the  rights 
so  assured  were  not  upheld? 

In  the  year  1448  the  Waldmarsch  constitution 
was  ratified  by  King  Christian  I.  Beyond  a  doubt 
Denmark  would  never  again  claim  sovereignty. 


90  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

How  then  did  the  Protocol  Prince  set  up  his 
claim? 

Twelve  years  later  the  ruler  of  Schleswig  died 
without  heirs,  and  the  National  Assembly  met  at 
Ripon  (it  is  always  satisfactory  to  know  just  when 
and  where  the  national  chambers  convene — it  was, 
namely,  in  1460,  at  Ripon),  and  there  proclaimed 
the  Danish  king  Duke  of  Schleswig,  whereupon 
he  pledged  himself  that  the  countries  should  re- 
main forever  undivided.  This  confused  me  again 
a  little  bit.  The  only  thing  certain  is  that  they  shall 
remain  forever  united. 

With  further  historical  studies  the  confusion 
increases,  for  now  begins,  notwithstanding  the 
' 'forever  undivided  "  clause  (this  word  "forever" 
plays  an  enviable  role  in  all  political  complications), 
an  eternal  division  and  subdivision  of  the  country 
between  the  sons  of  kings,  followed  by  a  re-union 
under  the  succeeding  kings,  and  the  founding  of 
new  lines — Holstein-Gottorp  and  Schleswig-Son- 
derburg.  These,  again,  cause  further  slicing  under 
new  lines,  Sonderburg  -  Augustenburg,  Beck- 
Gliicksburg,  Sonderburg-Gliicksburg,  Holstein- 
Gliickstadt;  in  short,  I  cannot  find  my  way  out. 

But  look  a  little  farther.  Perhaps  we  can  estab- 
lish the  historical  right  for  which  our  countrymen 
must  shed  their  blood. 

Christian  IV.  took  part  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
and  the  Imperialists  and  Swedes  fell  upon  the 
duchy.  Then  a  treaty  was  made  (at  Copenhagen, 
1658,)  by  which  the  line  Holstein-Gottorp  was 
secured  in  the  possession  of  the  Schleswig  province, 
and  at  last  the  Danish  sovereignty  was  surrendered. 

Surrendered  forever.  Thank  God.  I  begin  to 
feel  that  I  am  on  safe  ground. 

But  what  happened  through  an  agreement  of  the 
twenty-second  of  August,  1721?  Simply  this:  The 
Gottorp  portion  of  Schleswig  became  a  dependency 
of  the  Danish  monarchy.  On  the  first  of  June, 
1773,  Holstein  also  was  abandoned  to  Denmark — 
the  whole  becoming  simply  a  Danish  province. 


"GROUND  ARMS/"  91 

That  alters  the  case;  now  I  am  sure  the  Danes 
are  in  the  right. 

But  yet  not  quite,  for  the  Vienna  Congress  of 
1815  declared  Holstein  a  part  of  the  German  Alli- 
ance. This,  however,  enraged  the  Danes.  They 
raised  the  battle-cry,  "Denmark  to  the  Eider,"  and 
strove  to  secure  the  complete  possession  of  what 
they  called  South  Jutland,  otherwise  Schleswig. 
As  a  solution  of  the  difficulty,  the  hereditary  right  of 
the  Augustenburg  line  was  utilized  to  enforce  the 
German  National  Claim.  In  the  year  1846  King 
Christian  wrote  an  open  letter,  wherein  he  declares 
his  aim  to  be  the  maintenance  of  the  integrity  of 
the  whole  land,  against  which  the  "  German  prov- 
inces" protested.  Two  years  later  an  announce- 
ment from  the  throne  declared  this  complete  union 
as  fait  accompli,  whereupon  a  rebellion  broke  out  in 
the  two  "  German  provinces."  The  Danes  won  one 
battle,  the  Schleswig-Holsteiners  the  other.  The 
German  Alliance  interfered.  Prussia  took  some 
important  strategic  points,  but  this  did  not  end  the 
struggle.  At  last  Prussia  and  Denmark  concluded 
a  peace;  Schleswig-Holstein  fought  the  Danes 
single-handed  and  was  defeated  at  Idstedt. 

The  German  Alliance  now  peremptorily  de- 
manded that  the  insurgents  suspend  operations; 
Austrian  troops  invested  Holstein  and  the  two 
duchies  were  divided.  What  has  become  of  the 
"eternal  union"  promised  by  treaty  and  constitu- 
tion? 

Affairs  do  not  yet  seem  to  be  finally  settled.  I 
discovered  a  London  protocol  of  May  8,  1852 
(how  lucky!  we  are  at  least  sure  of  the  dates  of  all 
these  brittle  treaties),  which  secured  to  Prince 
Christian  of  Gliicksburg  the  succession  to  Schles- 
wig. Now  at  last  I  know  where  this  descriptive 
title,  "  Protocol  Prince,"  originated. 

In  the  year  1854,  after  each  duchy  had  adopted  a 
constitution,  both  were  again  appended  to  Denmark. 
In  1858  Denmark  was  compelled  to  abrogate  its 
claim.  This  historical  complication  approaches  the 


92  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

present  time,  but  I  am  not  at  all  clear  where  the 
two  provinces  rightfully  belong,  and  what  is  act- 
ually the  cause  of  the  outbreak  of  the  present  war. 

On  the  eighteenth  of  November,  1858,  the  Ger- 
man Parliament  approved  the  famous  decree  for 
the  settlement  of  the  common  affairs  of  Denmark 
and  Schleswig.  Two  days  thereafter  the  king  died. 
With  him  another  line,  that  of  Holstein-Gliickstadt, 
became  extinct,  and  as  his  successor  prepared  to 
claim  the  protection  of  the  Alliance  under  the  new 
decree,  Frederick  of  Augustenburg  appeared  upon 
the  scene.  (I  had  almost  forgotten  this  line.) 

The  Alliance  at  once  allowed  the  Saxons  and 
Hanoverians  to  invest  Holstein,  and  proclaimed 
Augustenburg  the  Duke.  Why?  The  Prussians 
and  Austrians  were  not  agreed  as  to  the  reason. 

To  this  day  I  have  not  been  able  to  comprehend 
it.  It  is  asserted  that  the  London  protocol  must 
be  respected.  Why?  Are  protocols  in  regard  to 
things  which  absolutely  do  not  concern  us  so  emi- 
nently respectable  that  we  must  defend  them  at  the 
expense  of  the  blood  of  our  own  sons?  Behind 
this  probably  is  secreted  another  one  of  those 
"  reasons  of  state."  We  must  maintain  as  dogma 
that  what  the  gentlemen  around  the  green  diplo- 
matic table  decide  is  the  highest  wisdom,  that  their 
aim  is  the  greatest  possible  assurance  of  the  increase 
of  national  supremacy.  The  London  protocol  of 
the  eighth  of  May,  1852,  must  be  upheld,  but  the 
constitutional  decree  of  Copenhagen,  of  the  thir- 
teenth of  January,  1863,  must  be  revoked,  and  that 
within  twenty-four  hours.  Upon  that  depended 
Austria's  honor  and  welfare.  The  dogma  is  a  little 
hard  to  believe;  but  in  political  matters  even  more 
than  in  religious  questions,  the  mass  allows  itself 
to  be  guided  by  the  principle  of  quid  absurdum;  to 
comprehend  and  reason  is  from  the  outset  forbid- 
den. When  the  sword  is  once  drawn  nothing  more 
is  allowable  than  a  "  hurrah,"  and  a  general  strug- 
gle for  victory,  and  the  blessing  of  Heaven  is  at 
once  invoked  upon  the  strife.  For  so  much  is 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  93 

certain:  it  must  be  of  great  consequence  to  the 
Almighty  that  the  London  protocol  should  be  main- 
tained and  the  decree  of  the  thirteenth  of  January 
be  revoked;  he  must  so  guide  matters  that  just  so 
many  human  beings  shall  shed  their  blood  and  so 
many  villages  be  destroyed,  in  order  to  establish 
the  sovereignty  either  of  the  line  of  Gliickstadt  or 
that  of  Augustenburg  over  a  particular  small  sec- 
tion of  this  earthly  territory.  O,  foolish,  inhuman, 
unreasoning  world,  still  in  the  leading  strings  of 
infancy!  That  was  the  conclusion  of  my  historical 
studies. 

The  most  encouraging  reports  came  from  the 
seat  of  war.  The  allies  won  battle  after  battle. 
After  the  first  engagement  the  Danes  evacuated 
the  entire  field;  Schleswig  and  Jutland  as  far  as 
Limfjord  were  invested  by  our  troops,  and  the 
enemy  was  massed  behind  the  fortifications  of 
Diippel  and  Alsen.  Again  we  followed  by  means 
of  maps  and  flag-decorated  pins  the  plan  of  cam- 
paign. 

"  If  we  only  take  the  fortifications  of  Diippel  or 
capture  Alsen,"  said  the  Olmiitz  citizens  (for  no 
one  talks  with  so  much  relish  of  military  achieve- 
ments as  those  who  take  no  part  in  them),  "  then  it 
is  over."  Our  brave  Austrians  show  what  they  are 
made  of,  and  the  Prussians  do  very  well;  the  two 
together  are  simply  invincible.  The  result  will  be 
that  the  whole  of  Denmark  will  be  conquered  and 
added  to  the  German  Confederation.  "  What  a 
glorious  result  of  war!  " 

There  was  nothing  I  more  earnestly  desired  than 
the  storming  of  Diippel;  the  sooner  the  better,  in 
order  that  this  butchery  might  end.  If  we  could 
only  hope  that  it  would  end  before  Frederick's 
regiment  was  ordered  into  the  field!  O,  this  sword 
of  Damocles!  Every  day  I  awoke  with  the  dread 
that  before  nightfall  the  order  to  march  might 
arrive. 

"Accustom  yourself  to  the  thought,  my  wife," 
said  Frederick.  "Against  the  inevitable  it  is  use- 


94  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

less  to  protest.  I  do  not  imagine  that  the  war 
will  end  with  the  capture  of  Diippel.  We  shall  be 
obliged  to  send  strong  re-enforcements,  and  it  is  not 
likely  that  my  regiment  will  be  spared." 

The  campaign  lasted  two  months  without  result. 
It  is  a  pity  such  matters  cannot  be  decided  by  one 
battle  as  in  the  duel.  But  no.  So  soon  as  one 
battle  is  lost  another  one  follows,  when  one  position 
is  abandoned  another  is  secured;  and  so  it  goes  on 
until  one  or  both  armies  are  destroyed  or  reach  the 
point  of  exhaustion. 

On  the  fourteenth  of  April,  Diippel  was  stormed 
and  taken.  The  news  was  received  with  acclama- 
tion. Men  embraced  each  other  on  the  street.  "Oh, 
our  noble  army,  gallant  fellows;  a  wonderful  piece 
of  strategy  and  courage!  We  thank  God."  In  all 
the  churches  the  Te  Deum  was  sung;  the  musi- 
cians played  new  "  Diippel  Marches  "  and  "Storm- 
ing of  Dtippel  Galops."  The  comrades  of  my  hus- 
band and  their  wives  had  a  bitter  drop,  however,  in 
their  cup  of  joy — their  unlucky  absence  from  the 
field. 

Immediately  after  this  victory  a  peace  conference 
assembled  in  London,  and  I  rejoiced  over  the  pros- 
pect of  a  termination  of  the  war.  How  freely  one 
breathes  when  this  word  "  peace  "  is  uttered.  How 
the  nations  will  be  relieved  when  the  command, 
4t  Ground  Arms!"  is  heard  around  the  world.  I 
wrote  down  "  Ground  Arms  "  for  the  first  time  in 
my  diary.  Next  to  it — Utopia. 

The  conference  dragged  itself  along  for  two 
months  and  ended  without  any  agreement  as  to 
terms  of  peace.  Two  days  later  came  the  order  to 
march.  We  had  twenty-four  hours  for  preparation 
and  farewell.  I  hourly  expected  the  birth  of  my 
child.  At  the  time  when  a  wife  most  needs  the 
consolation  of  her  husband's  presence  I  was  to  be 
deprived  of  it,  and  with  the  terrible  possibility 
awaiting  him  of  death  or  equal  disaster.  We  were 
too  clear-sighted  to  console  each  other  with  any  of 
the  hollow  phrases  and  hypocrisy  by  which  war 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  95 

is  made  to  seem  a  thing  of  righteous  duty.  The 
appalling  magnitude  of  the  approaching  evil  I 
would  not  cloak  by  any  of  the  conventional  patri- 
otic or  heroic  masks.  The  prospect  of  being  able 
to  shoot  and  cut  down  the  Danes  was  no  compen- 
sation to  him  for  the  dread  parting  from  his  wife, 
for  death  and  destruction  are  repulsive  to  any 
noble  mind;  and  in  case  this  parting  should  prove 
an  eternal  one,  what  reason  of  state  could  recon- 
cile me  to  such  a  sacrifice.  The  defender  of  his 
country:  that  is  the  sonorous  title  which  decorates 
the  soldier.  In  truth  what  nobler  duty  can  there 
be  than  to  defend  the  common  cause.  But  why 
should  the  soldier  add  to  his  oath  of  allegiance 
a  hundred  other  military  duties  besides  that  of 
defense  of  country.  Why  must  he  go  beyond  this 
duty:  to  attack  another  country,  when  not  the 
slightest  danger  threatens  his  own.  Shall  he, 
because  of  the  love  of  strife  or  the  ambitious 
motives  of  foreign  princes,  pledge  his  highest 
good, — life  and  health, — as  he  is  only  justified  in 
doing  when  such  danger  actually  threatens  life 
and  home?  Why,  for  instance,  must  this  Austrian 
army  march  out  to  set  the  Augustenburg  upon  his 
petty  throne?  Why,  why?  That  is  the  question 
which  to  propose  to  emperor  or  pope  is  treason- 
able and  blasphemous,  and  which  by  them  would 
be  considered  on  the  one  side  impiety,  on  the  other 
dangerous  disloyalty,  which  both  would  scorn  to 
answer. 

The  regiment  was  to  march  at  ten  o'clock.  Not 
one  moment  of  those  few  last  hours  did  we  give  to 
sleep.  There  was  always  the  possibility  of  safe 
return  and  we  vainly  strove  to  grasp  this  feeble 
hope.  As  day  dawned  exhausted  nature  revenged 
itself,  and  with  groans  and  tears  I  realized  that 
my  hour  of  trial  had  come.  Physical  anguish  scarce 
heightened  the  sorrow  of  parting,  and  Frederick 
tore  himself  away  uncertain  whether  the  next  hour 
might  not  leave  him  bereft  of  wife  and  child. 

The  Olmiitz  papers  of  the  next  day  contained  the 
following  account: 


96  "GROUND  ARMSl" 

"  Yesterday,  with  flying  colors  and  beating  drums  the 
— th  Regiment  marched  out  to  win  fresh  laurels  at  the 
seat  of  war,  in  defense  of  the  outraged  rights  of  German 
brotherhood.  Joyous  enthusiasm  inspired  each  heart, 
patriotic  spirit  illumined  each  eye,"  etc.,  etc. 

I  lost  my  child  and  for  weeks  I  lay  unconscious. 
One  day  I  suddenly  awoke  after  frightful  dreams 
of  battle  scenes,  where  I  seemed  to  be  continually 
pleading  in  the  name  of  justice,  of  mercy  and 
humanity:  "Ground  Arms!  " 

My  father  and  Aunt  Marie  stood  at  my  bedside. 

"Is  he  alive,"  I  cried;  "have  letters  come,  or 
despatches?" 

Yes,  there  were  both,  and  after  some  days  I  was 
allowed  to  read  them.  There  was  one  marked — 
"  Not  to  be  delivered  until  all  danger  is  past." 
From  this  I  take  some  extracts: 

"  To-day  we  met  the  enemy  for  the  first  time.  Up  to 
the  present  we  had  marched  through  conquered  territory, 
the  Danes  having  rapidly  retreated.  All  around  us  were  the 
ruins  of  smoking  villages,  scattered  harvests,  abandoned 
arms  and  knapsacks;  the  earth  was  torn  up  by  shot  and 
shell,  and  covered  with  dead  horses  and  masses  of  graves. 
Such  were  the  landscapes  and  accessories,  through 
which  we  followed  the  footsteps  of  the  victors,  in  order 
to  make  sure  of  other  triumphs — that  is,  to  burn  new  vil- 
lages, etc.;  this  we  have  done  to-day.  We  have  cap- 
tured the  position  of  the  enemy.  Behind  us  a  village  is 
in  flames.  The  inhabitants,  fortunately,  had  already  fled. 
But  a  horse  had  been  forgotten  in  his  stall.  I  heard  his 
despairing  stamping  and  whinnying.  Do  you  know  what 
I  did?  It  would  not  have  gained  me  a  decoration — for 
instead  of  cutting  down  a  few  Danes  I  ran  to  free  the  poor 
animal.  It  was  too  late;  the  crib  was  already  in  flames, 
the  straw  under  his  hoofs,  and  his  mane  were  in  flames. 
I  shot  him  through  the  head  and  he  dropped  dead,  saved 
from  horrible  torture.  Back  I  rushed  into  the  field,  into 
the  smoke  of  powder,  and  the  wild  alarm  of  continual 
volleys  of  musketry,  flying  cannon  balls,  raging  battle- 
cries.  All  around  me,  friend  and  foe,  were  absorbed  in 
the  tumult  of  contest.  I  could  take  no  part  in  this 
feeling.  I  could  think  of  nothing  save  the  possibility 
that  I  had  already  lost  you.  The  engagement  lasted  two 
hours  and  the  enemy  abandoned  the  field.  We  did  not 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  97 

pursue  them.  There  was  enough  to  do.  A  few  hundred 
steps  from  the  village,  untouched  by  the  flames,  stood  a 
farmhouse  with  capacious  granaries  and  stables.  We 
collected  our  wounded  and  cared  for  them  as  well  as 
possible.  The  dead  were  buried  in  the  morning — and 
with  them  probably  many  yet  alive,  for  it  frequently  hap- 
pens with  the  severely  wounded  that  a  species  of  tetanus 
causes  the  bodies  to  assume  the  rigidity  of  death.  Many, 
whether  dead,  wounded,  or  unharmed  bodily,  we  shall 
leave  behind  us;  those,  too,  who  were  overwhelmed  by 
the  falling  walls  of  the  burning  buildings.  The  dead  will 
slowly  moulder,  the  wounded  slowly  bleed  to  death,  and 
the  uninjured  slowly  starve.  And  we — hurrah!  We  will 
push  on  in  our  merry,  dashing  war." 

"  The  next  engagement  will  probably  be  a  pitched  battle. 
From  all  information  obtained,  two  great  army  corps  will 
stand  opposed  to  each  other.  Then  the  loss  in  killed  and 
wounded  will  run  up  into  the  thousands;  when  the  artil- 
lery has  begun  its  deadly  work,  the  front  ranks  are  quickly 
mowed  down.  That  is  a  magnificent  arrangement.  The 
pity  is  that  some  weapon  is  not  yet  invented,  which  each 
side  can  fire  once,  and  which  will  by  that  discharge  utterly 
destroy  both  armies.  Possibly  that  would  abolish  war. 
Brute  force  could  then  never  be  relied  upon  to  settle 
differences. 

"  Why  do  I  write  all  this  to  you?  Why  do  I  not  break 
out,  as  every  soldier  ought,  in  enthusiastic  hymns  of 
praise  of  the  glorious  results  of  war?  Why?  Because  I 
will  speak  nothing  but  the  truth,  the  absolute,  unvarnished 
truth;  because  1  hate  the  customary  lying  phrases;  and 
because,  in  this  hour  when  I  may  be  so  close  to  death,  I 
am  doubly  impelled  to  tell  you  what  lies  next  my  heart. 
Whether  thousands  think  otherwise,  or  feel  impelled  by 
duty  to  speak  otherwise,  I  must  once  more  say,  before  I 
fall  a  sacrifice,  that  I  hate  war.  If  every  man  who  feels 
the  same  would  say  so,  what  a  warning  cry  would  go  up 
to  heaven.  All  the  present  hurrah  accompanying  the 
thunder  of  cannon  would  be  overpowered  by  a  new  battle- 
cry  of  suffering,  outraged  humanity:  'War  upon  war.' 

4:30  A.  M. 

"  The  foregoing  I  wrote  last  night.  I  then  lay  down 
upon  a  pile  of  straw  and  snatched  a  few  hours  sleep.  In 
half  an  hour  the  reveille  will  sound  and  I  can  throw  this 
letter  into  the  field  mail.  All  are  already  awake  and  pre- 
paring-for  the  march.  Poor  fellows!  they  have  had  little 
rest,  after  yesterday's  bloody  work,  to  prepare  them  for 


98  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

a  still  bloodier  struggle  to-day.  I  have  just  made  the 
rounds  of  a  temporary  hospital  which  we  must  leave 
behind  us.  Among  the  dying  and  wounded  were  several 
whom  it  would  have  been  charity  to  shoot  as  I  did  the 
poor  horse.  There  was  one  whose  whole  lower  jaw  was 
shot  away;  another — but  enough,  I  cannot  help  them. 
Death  is  the  sole  release  and  death  comes  so  slowly.  To 
those  who  beg  piteously  death  turns  a  deaf  ear.  He  is 
otherwise  engaged  tearing  away  the  busy  and  the  happy 
who  vainly  plead  for  yet  a  little  time.  My  horse  is  saddled. 
Farewell  Martha — if  you  still  live." 

Fortunately  I  found  in  the  packet  one  or  two 
letters  of  later  date,  written  after  the  battle  antici- 
pated by  Frederick. 

"The  day  is  ours.  I  am  safe  and  well.  Those  are  two 
favorable  reports — the  first  for  your  father,  the  second 
for  you.  I  dare  not  forget  that  for  countless  others  the 
same  day  brought  overwhelming  sorrow  and  misery." 

In  another,  Frederick  reported  meeting  his  cousin 
Gottfried. 

"Imagine  my  surprise  when  I  saw  Aunt  Cornelia's  only 
son  at  the  head  of  a  detachment  riding  past  me.  The 
youngster  is  filled  with  martial  ardor,  but  how  his  poor 
mother  must  suffer.  That  evening  we  were  in  the  same 
camp,  and  I  sent  for  him  to  come  to  my  tent.  '  Is  it  not 
magnificent,'  he  cried,  'that  we  are  fighting  for  the  same 
cause  and  are  near  together.  How  lucky  I  am  that  war 
should  break  out  the  first  year  of  my  service.  I  may  win 
a  cross  of  honor.'  'And  my  Aunt,  how  does  she  take  it?  ' 
'Oh,  like  all  women — with  tears  which  she  strove  to  hide 
from  me,  in  order  not  to  dampen  my  enthusiasm;  with 
blessings,  sorrow,  and  pride.'  'And  how  was  it  with  you, 
yourself,  youngster,  the  first  time  you  went  into  battle?' 
'Oh,  enchanting,  delightful!'  'You  need  not  lie,  my  boy; 
it  is  not  the  staff  officer  examining  into  your  fitness  for  a 
military  office,  but  your  friend,  who  is  questioning  you.' 
'  I  can  only  repeat,  it  was  inspiring.  Horrible?  Yes,  but 
grand!  And  with  the  consciousness  that  I  was  fulfilling 
man's  highest  duty,  with  God  on  my  side  for  king  and 
country!  And  then:  that  I  met  death  so  close — dared  it 
face  to  face,  and  it  did  not  touch  me — that  filled  me  with 
a  lofty  sense  of  the  peculiar  glory  of  war,  as,  in  the  old 
epic  stories,  I  saw  the  muse  of  history  guiding  our  arms 
to  victory.  A  noble  indignation  filled  me  against  the 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  99 

insolent  enemy  who  had  dared  to  attack  a  German  coun- 
try, and  it  was  an  intense  satisfaction  to  gratify  this  hate. 
This  desire  to  destroy,  without  being  a  murderer,  this  set- 
ting one's  own  life  in  the  balance  is  a  singular  sensation.' 

"  So  the  boy  rattled  on.  I  let  him  talk.  I  had  experi- 
enced it  all  in  my  first  campaign.  '  Epic  ' — yes,  that  was 
the  right  word.  The  stories  of  martial  heroes  and  battle- 
fields, by  means  of  which  we  so  carefully  train  our  incip- 
ient soldiers  in  the  schools,  are  the  proper  preparation 
for  the  thunder  of  artillery  and  the  battle-cries  of  the 
combatants,  which  mount  with  resonant  force  into  our 
heated  brains.  And  the  extraordinary  surroundings,  the 
incomprehensible  lawlessness  in  the  midst  of  which  we 
find  ourselves,  seems  like  an  outlook  from  a  former 
peaceful,  law-abiding  life  down  into  a  titanic  struggle 
within  the  gates  of  hell.  I  could  with  difficulty  readjust 
myself  so  as  fully  to  comprehend  Gottfried's  state  of 
mind.  I  had  so  early  realized  that  military  zeal  is  not 
superhuman  but  simply  inhuman;  no  mystical  revelation 
from  the  kingdom  of  Lucifer,  but  a  reminiscence  of  the 
period  of  brutality — a  resurrection  of  barbarism. 

"Only  he  who  becomes  drunk  with  the  passion  of  de- 
struction, who — as  I  have  occasionally  seen  among  us, — 
can  split  open  with  vindictive  blow  the  defenseless  head 
of  a  disarmed  enemy,  who  can  sink  to  the  Berserker — 
deeper  still,  to  the  rank  of  bloodthirsty  tiger — has  for  the 
moment  enjoyed  the  lust  of  war.  I  never  can,  my  wife, 
believe  me,  never. 

''-  Gottfried  is  delighted  that  we  Austrians  fight  for  the 
same  just  cause  (what  does  he  know?  as  if  every  cause 
is  not  claimed  by  the  army  orders  as  just)  as  the  Prus- 
sians. '  We  Germans  are  a  band  of  brothers.'  '  That  was 
proved  by  the  Thirty  Years',  also  by  the  Seven  Years'  war,' 
I  suggested  in  a  low  tone.  Gottfried  paid  no  attention. 
'  Together,  for  each  other  we  will  conquer  every  enemy.' 
'  How  will  it  be,  my  boy,  when  to-day  or  to-morrow  the 
Prussians  declare  war  against  the  Austrians,  and  we  two 
stand  opposed  to  each  other? '  '  Not  to  be  thought  of. 
What?  after  having  fought  and  bled  together?  Impos- 
sible!' 'Impossible?  I  warn  you  against  that;  nothing  is 
impossible  in  political  matters.  As  evanescent  as  the 
ephemeral  fly  in  the  kingdom  of  nature  are  the  enmities 
and  friendships  of  nations." 

"  I  write  all  this,  not  that  I  believe  in  your  invalid  con- 
dition it  may  interest  you,  but  because  I  have  a  haunting 
conviction  that  I  may  not  survive  the  campaign,  and  I  am 
not  willing  to  take  my  convictions  into  the  grave  with 


100  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

me.  The  convictions  of  reflecting  and  humane  soldiers 
should  not  be  falsified  or  buried  in  silence.  '  I  have 
dared,'  was  Ulrich  von  Hutten's  motto.  '  I  have  said' — : 
with  this  quieting  of  conscience,  I  will  depart  from  life." 

The  latest  of  these  letters  was  five  days  old. 
What  had  happened  in  those  five  days?  My  anxi- 
ety and  dread  became  insupportable.  My  father 
was  obliged  to  return  to  his  estate  of  Grumitz,  and 
I  was  out  of  all  present  danger.  Aunt  Marie  re- 
mained and  endeavored  to  quiet  me  with  her  con- 
ventional ideas  of  destiny,  special  providences,  and 
the  like— small  comfort  for  the  dreadful  lack  of 
news  from  the  front.  After  his  return  home  my 
father  telegraphed  repeatedly  the  result  of  his  in- 
quiries. He  could  get  no  reply  from  Frederick's 
colonel,  yet  on  examination  of  the  list  of  killed  and 
wounded  his  name  was  not  discovered. 

One  afternoon,  when  I  had  begged  to  be  left 
alone,  I  lay  on  the  sofa  half  dreaming  of  the  day 
he  left  me.  Aroused  by  a  slight  movement  I  sprang 
up  in  terror,  with  the  feeling  that  anxiety  had 
overmastered  reason,  and  that  it  was  in  imagination 
only  that  I  saw  Frederick  standing  in  the  doorway. 

The  next  moment  I  was  clasped  to  his  heart. 

When  we  found  time  for  other  thought  than  the 
joy  of  re-union,  Frederick  explained  that  he  had 
been  left  wounded  in  a  farmhouse,  and  the  regi- 
mental surgeon  could  make  no  other  report  than 
"missing,"  which,  fortunately,  had  not  reached  us. 
As  soon  as  possible  he  hastened  home,  and  the  war 
was  virtually  at  an  end  when  he  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  be  moved. 

We  spent  the  summer  in  Grumitz,  and  after 
much  serious  consultation  I  persuaded  Frederick 
to  resign  his  commission.  Our  interests  had  now, 
through  our  love,  become  so  united,  that  there  was 
no  longer  any  feeling  of  hesitancy  on  account  of 
my  being  the  financial  partner.  He  was  only  anx- 
ious to  spare  us  both  the  horrors  of  another  war. 

My  son   Rudolph,   now  a  seven-years-old   little 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  101 

man,  began  to  learn  to  read  and  write.  I  was  his 
teacher.  I  should  not  have  been  willing  to  turn 
over  to  any  hired  servant  the  delight  (which  to 
her  would  have  been  no  pleasure)  of  watching  the 
dawning  of  intelligence  and  the  slow  unfolding  of 
this  precious  soul.  .He  accompanied  us  in  our  daily 
walks,  and,  as  is  usual  with  children,  he  tested  our 
intelligence  by  the  waking  curiosity  of  his  own. 
We  did  not  hesitate  to  say  to  him,  upon  questions 
that  no  human  being  can  justly  answer,  "  We  do 
not  know."  In  the  beginning,  when  we  made  this 
reply,  Rudolph  was  not  satisfied,  but  carried  his 
queries  to  his  aunt  Marie,  his  grandfather,  or  his 
nurse,  and  was,  of  course,  gratified  by  no  doubtful 
answers.  Triumphantly  he  would  return  to  us. 
"You  do  not  know  how  old  the  moon  is?  I  do; 
six  thousand  years — remember  that."  Frederick 
and  I  exchanged  glances.  A  whole  volume  of 
pedagogic  lament  and  comment  lay  in  this  glance 
and  silence. 

I  particularly  objected  to  the  "  playing  soldier," 
with  which  my  father  and  brother  Otto  continually 
sought  to  entertain  him.  The  idea  of  an  enemy 
and  the  duty  of  cutting  him  down  was  developed 
without  my  knowing  how.  One  day  Frederick  and 
I  surprised  him  beating  two  crying  puppies  with  a 
riding-whip. 

"You  are  a  treacherous  Italian,"  he  cried,  giving 
one  of  the  poor  little  creatures  a  blow;  "and  you," 
hitting  the  other,  "an  insolent  Dane." 

Frederick  snatched  the  whip  from  his  hand. 

"And  you  are  a  heartless  Austrian,"  he  said,  lay- 
ing two  or  three  lashes  on  Rudolph's  shoulders. 
The  Italians  and  Danes  ran  away  joyfully,  while 
the  Austrian  began  to  blubber. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  angry,  Martha,  that  I  have 
struck  your  boy?  I  am  no  friend  in  general  to  the 
lash,  but  cruelty  to  animals  I  cannot  endure " 

"  Quite  right,"  I  interrupted. 

"People  can  only  be  cruel  to  people,  then?" 
whimpered  the  little  fellow  between  his  sobs. 


102  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  Not  at  all." 

"Why,  you  yourself  went  out  to  beat  the  Italians 
and  Danes." 

"They  were  enemies." 

"  Then  we  can  beat  our  enemies?  " 

"And  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after,"  said  Fred- 
erick, turning  away,  "  the  priest  will  tell  him  that 
he  must  love  his  enemies.  Oh,  logic!  " 

He  turned  again  to  Rudolph. 

"  No,  we  must  not  beat  our  enemies  because  we 
hate  them,  but  because  they  are  going  to  beat  us." 

"What  are  they  going  to  beat  us  about?" 
exclaimed  Rudolph,  intensely  interested. 

"Because  we — no,  no!"  and  Frederick  gave  it 
up,  "  we  will  never  make  our  way  out  of  this  circle. 
Go  and  play,  Rudi — we  forgive  you,  but  you  must 
not  do  it  again." 

Cousin  Conrad,  whose  regiment  was  stationed 
in  the  neighborhood,  made  some  slight  progress  in 
Lilli's  favor.  He  made  no  special  assaults,  but 
was  evidently  bent  upon  a  prolonged  siege. 

"  There  are  various  ways  of  capturing  a  fortifi- 
cation," he  explained  to  me  one  day,  "  by  storm, 
by  famine;  there  are  also  several  methods  of  bring- 
ing the  feminine  heart  to  capitulation.  The  surest 
of  these  is  habit — the  custom  of  seeing  a  fellow 
about.  It  must  touch  her  finally  to  see  the  persist- 
ence of  my  love;  how  patiently  I  keep  silence  but 
so  unfailingly  turn  up  again.  When  I  stay  away  a 
little  while  it  will  make  quite  a  hole  in  her  exist- 
ence; when  I  remain  long  away  she  will  not  know 
how  to  live  without  me." 

"  And  how  many  times  seven  years  do  you  intend 
to  serve? " 

"  I  have  not  calculated — as  many  as  necessary 
until  she  accepts  me." 

"I  am  struck  with  admiration.  Are  there  no 
other  girls  in  the  world?" 

"  None  for  me.  I  have  Lilli  on  the  brain.  There 
is  something  in  her  walk,  in  the  dimple  in  her  chin, 
in  her  way  of  speaking  that  no  other  can  equal. 


"GROUND   ARMS!"  103 

You,  Martha,  are,  for  example,  ten  times  prettier 
and  a  hundred  times  cleverer " 

"Thanks." 

"  But  I  would  not  have  you  for  a  wife." 

"  Thanks." 

"Just  because  you  are  too  clever.  You  would 
certainly  look  down  upon  me.  The  cross  on  my 
collar,  my  saber,  my  spurs  have  no  effect  upon  you. 
Lilli  has  a  great  respect  for  a  fighting  man.  I 
know  she  worships  the  army,  while  you " 

"I  have  only  married  into  the  army  twice,"  I 
replied  laughing. 

We  often  had  visitors  from  Vienna,  diplomatists 
and  distinguished  officers.  I  frequently  took  part 
in  their  discussions  over  present  political  difficul- 
ties, though  always  after  protest  on  their  part  that 
I  would  surely  feel  but  little  interest  in  them. 
Through  these  I  was  enabled  to  follow  to  the  end 
the  Danish  question  which  I  had  so  industriously 
studied  during  the  campaign.  Certainly,  after  all 
these  battles  and  victories,  it  would  be  decided  what 
was  to  be  done  with  the  duchies.  The  Augusten- 
burg — the  famous  Augustenburg,  to  maintain  whose 
well-established  rights  the  whole  strife  had  been 
made — had  he  received  his  portion?  Not  at  all. 
An  entirely  new  pretender  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
It  was  not  enough  to  have  Gliicksburg  and  Got- 
torp,  and  whatever  all  the  other  lines  were  called, 
but  in  addition  Russia  must  step  in  with  a  fresh 
candidate.  Against  Augustenburg  Russia  pitted 
Oldenburg.  The  final  result  of  the  war  seemed  to 
be  that  none  of  the  "  burgs  "  were  to  have  the 
duchies,  but  that  these  were  to  be  divided  among 
the  victors. 

The  following  were  the  articles  upon  which  it 
was  proposed  to  conclude  peace: 

(i.)  Denmark  must  surrender  the  duchies  to  Austria 
and  Prussia. 

I  was  satisfied  with  this.  The  allies  would  natur- 
ally hasten  to  restore  these  conquered  provinces  to 
their  rightful  owners. 


104  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

(2.)     The  border  must  be  carefully  defined. 

That  was  also  very  fine;  if  only  these  metes  and 
bounds  could  be  given  the  grace  of  durability; 
but  it  is  aggravating  to  watch  the  everlasting  vicis- 
situdes of  the  blue  and  green  lines  on  the  geograph- 
ical maps. 

(3.)  The  state  debt  must  be  divided  according  to  the 
population. 

This  I  did  not  understand  at  all. 

(4.)  The  expenses  of  the  war  must  be  borne  by  the 
duchies. 

I  did  not  exactly  comprehend  this,  either.  The 
land  had  become  a  desert,  its  harvests  were  de- 
stroyed, its  sons  were  in  their  graves;  some  com- 
pensation must  be  offered  them.  Now,  then,  it 
must  pay  the  costs. 

"What  is  the  news  in  regard  to  Schleswig-Hol- 
stein?"  I  asked  one  day  to  open  the  conversation. 

"  The  latest  is  that  von  Beust  has  addressed  a 
categorical  demand  to  the  Parliament  for  informa- 
tion as  to  how  it  can  be  possible  for  the  allies  to 
accept  the  surrender  of  these  provinces  from  ^ 
king  whose  provincial  sovereignty  had  not  been 
recognized  by  them." 

"Quite  an  intelligent  suggestion,"  I  remarked; 
"for  it  is  said  that  the  Protocol-Prince  is  not  the 
legitimate  heir  to  the  German  provinces,  and  now 
you  allow  Christian  IX. " 

"  You  do  not  understand  anything  about  it, 
child,"  said  my  father  impatiently.  "It  is  a  piece 
of  impudence  and  chicanery  in  this  Beust,  and 
nothing  else.  The  duchies  belong  to  us  because 
we  have  conquered  them." 

"  But  not  for  ourselves;  it  was  claimed  for 
Augustenburg." 

"You  do  not  understand.  The  causes  which  be- 
fore the  outbreak  of  war  are  given  by  diplomatists 
as  justifiable  for  action  frequently  retire  into  the 
background  so  soon  as  the  struggle  is  over.  Vic- 
tories and  defeats  produce  entirely  new  compli- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  105 

cations,  and  nations  are  forced  to  fresh  considera- 
tions by  undreamed  of  circumstances." 

"  So  that  after  all  the  reasons  are  no  reasons  at 
all — only  pretenses?"  I  inquired. 

"  Pretenses?  No."  One  of  the  generals  came  to 
my  father's  relief  with  "apparent  motives — sug- 
gestions of  probable  events  which  are  justified  by 
the  measure  of  their  success." 

"  If  I  were  allowed  to  suggest,"  said  my  father,  "  I 
would  not  have  permitted  an  intimation  of  peace 
after  Diippel  and  Alsen  had  been  captured,  until 
the  whole  of  Denmark  had  been  conquered." 

"What  would  you  do  with  it?" 

"  Make  it  a  part  of  the  German  Confederation!  " 

"  Why  should  you,  Papa,  who  are  such  a  patriotic 
Austrian,  care  for  the  German  Confederation?" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  the  Hapsburgs  were 
German  emperors,  and  may  be  so  again?" 

"  How  would  it  be,"  suggested  Frederick,  "  if 
some  other  great  German  cherished  the  same 
dreams?" 

My  father  laughed  derisively. 

"The  crown  of  the  holy  Roman-German  Empire 
on  the  head  of  a  Protestant  prince!  Have  you  lost 
your  senses?" 

"  It  is  not  certain  that  the  two  powers  will  not 
differ  as  to  the  settlement  of  this  latest  question,"  re- 
marked Doctor  Bresser.  "To  conquer  the  provinces 
of  the  Elbe  is  of  not  much  consequence — but  what 
to  do  with  them  may  prove  the  source  of  discord. 
Every  war,  whatever  the  result*  may  be,  contains 
within  itself  the  seed  of  future  wars.  Naturally 
one  act  of  violence  leads  to  another,  and  they  pro- 
ceed in  an  indefinite  procession." 

Some  days  later  a  fresh  piece  of  news  was 
reported. 

King  William  of  Prussia  visited  our  Emperor 
at  Schonbrunn.  The  meeting  and  embraces  were 
most  affectionate,  while  the  Prussian  eagle  floated 
in  the  breeze,  military  bands  played  only  Prus- 
sian national  hymns,  and  there  was  great  popular 


106  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

enthusiasm.  I  rejoiced  over  this  account,  as  it 
seemed  to  contradict  Doctor  Bresser's  fateful  proph- 
ecies. My  father  rejoiced  because  of  the  advantage 
to  be  gained  in  using  the  allied  forces,  in  case  Aus- 
tria wished  to  re-conquer  Lombardy. 

"Napoleon  III.  will  never  tolerate  that,"  said  one 
of  the  generals.  "  It  is  a  very  bad  sign,  indeed,  that 
Benedetti,  Austria's  worst  enemy,  is  now  Minister 
to  Berlin." 

"Will  you  tell  me,  gentlemen,"  I  cried,  folding 
my  hands,  "why  do  not  the  general  powers  organize 
a  confederation?" 

The  gentlemen  shrugged  their  shoulders.  I  had 
evidently  made  one  of  those  stupid  suggestions 
with  which  the  fair  sex  are  in  the  habit  of  enrich- 
ing political  discussions. 

Autumn  arrived.  On  the  thirtieth  of  October 
articles  of  peace  were  signed  at  Vienna,  and  the 
desire  of  my  heart,  my  husband's  resignation,  could 
now  be  sent  in.  But  man  proposes  and  circum- 
stances dispose  of  our  plans.  The  house  of  Schmitt 
&  Sons  went  into  bankruptcy,  and  the  whole  of  my 
private  fortune  was  swept  away.  This  was  also 
one  of  the  results  of  war.  Fortunately  my  father 
was  able  to  do  something  for  me,  but  of  quitting 
the  service  there  was  now  no  prospect.  We  needed 
Frederick's  pay;  it  was  our  only  means  of  independ- 
ent livelihood.  We  were  quartered  in  Vienna  for 
the  winter,  living  in  simple  style,  abandoning  all 
social  pleasures  of  the  gay  world.  It  was  enough 
for  my  happiness  that  there  was  no  present  pros- 
pect of  another  war.  Aunt  Marie  and  my  sisters 
spent  the  season  in  Prague.  As  Conrad's  regiment 
was  stationed  in  the  Bohemian  capital  I  somewhat 
suspiciously  questioned  Lilli  as  to  this  singular 
coincidence,  to  which  she  shrugged  her  shoulders 
and  replied:  "You  know  I  cannot  bear  him." 

To  a  small  circle  of  relatives  and  friends  our 
house  was  always  open.  The  old  companion  of  my 
youth,  Lori  Griesbach,  visited  us  often,  in  truth 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  107 

oftener  than  was  agreeable.  Her  conversation, 
even  in  earlier  times  generally  uninteresting  to  me, 
I  now  found  tiresomely  superficial,  and  the  hor- 
izon of  her  interests,  which  had  always  been  a  nar- 
row one,  seemed  to  have  lessened  astonishingly. 
She  was  handsome  and  gay  and  a  coquette.  I  un- 
derstood that  in  society  she  turned  the  heads  of 
many,  and  it  was  rumored  that  she  had  no  objec- 
tion to  love-making.  It  was  not  very  agreeable  to 
me  to  discover  that  she  admired  Frederick  exceed- 
ingly, and  I  intercepted  many  a  languishing  glance 
which  indicated  her  intention  to  occupy  a  niche 
in  his  heart.  Lori's  husband,  the  ornament  of  the 
Jockey  Club,  the  race-course,  and  the  theatrical 
coulisses  was  notoriously  so  unfaithful  to  her  that 
she  might  be  pardoned  for  some  small  attempt  to 
avenge  herself;  but  I  preferred  she  should  not 
choose  Frederick  as  a  means  to  that  end.  I  had 
something  to  say  about  that. 

Jealous — I?  I  grew  red  at  the  consciousness  of 
this  feeling.  I  was  so  certain  of  his  heart.  He 
could  love  no  one — no  one  in  the  world  as  much  as 
he  loved  me.  Well,  yes,  love — but  an  innocent  sort 
of  flirtation,  a  little  temporary  state  of  amorous- 
ness. I  was  a  little  doubtful  on  that  point. 

Lori  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  from  me  how 
much  she  admired  Frederick. 

"  Do  you  hear,  Martha?  you  are  really  to  be  en- 
vied such  a  charming  husband;"  or,  "Keep  close 
guard  over  your  Frederick,  for  he  is  surely  firing 
the  hearts  of  all  the  women." 

"  I  am  certain  of  his  fidelity." 

"  Do  not  be  so  ridiculous — as  if  fidelity  and  mar- 
ried men  were  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath. 
Faithful  men  do  not  exist.  You  know,  for  instance, 
how  my  husband " 

"But  Lori,  perhaps  it  is  not  true.  Then,  all  men 
are  not  alike ." 

"All  of  them,  all  of  them;  1  can  assure  you  of 
that.  I  do  not  know  one  man  who  will  not  flirt. 
Among  those  who  are  devoted  to  me  are  several 


108  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

married  men.  What  would  you  have?  We  are  not 
giving  each  other  lessons  in  faithfulness." 

"They  know  probably  that  you  will  not  listen  to 
them.  Does  Frederick  belong  to  this  phalanx?"  I 
asked,  laughing. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you,  you  little  goose.  It 
is  very  good  of  me  to  direct  your  attention  to  the 
fact  of  how  much  I  admire  him.  I  merely  warn 
you  to  keep  an  eye  open." 

"  I  have  kept  my  eyes  wide  open,  Lori,  and  they 
have  already  informed  me  to  my  dissatisfaction 
that  you  have  opened  your  batteries  upon  him." 

"  There  it  is!  I  shall  have  to  be  more  prudent  in 
future." 

We  both  laughed;  but  still  I  felt  that  behind  all 
this  joking  allusion  to  my  jealousy  there  was  the 
spark  to  rouse  that  passion,  and  that  also  back  of 
her  teasing  there  might  be  a  kernel  of  truth. 

Lori's  husband  had  not  been  in  the  Schleswig- 
Holstein  campaign,  and  the  fact  was  an  annoyance 
to  him.  Lori  was  also  provoked  at  the  unlucky 
circumstance. 

"  It  was  such  a  glorious  war! ''  she  complained. 
"Griesbach  would  have  been  promoted.  The  only 
comfort  is  that  in  the  next  campaign " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about? "  I  interrupted. 
"  There  is  not  the  slightest  prospect  of  one.  Or 
have  you  heard  anything?  Why  should  war  break 
out  now?" 

"Why?  I  never  trouble  myself  about  that.  Wars 
come  and  there  they  are.  Every  four  or  five  years 
one  breaks  out — that  is  the  course  of  history." 

"  But  there  must  always  be  a  cause." 

"Perhaps — but  who  knows?  Not  I,  nor  my  hus- 
band. 'What  are  they  fighting  about  anyway 
over  there,'  I  asked  him  during  the  last  war.  'I  do 
not  know,  and  I  do  not  care,'  he  answered,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  'It  is  only  provoking  that  I 
am  not  with  them, '  he  added.  Oh,  Griesbach  is  a 
true  soldier.  The  why  and  the  wherefore  of  a  war 
are  no  business  of  the  soldier.  The  diplomatists 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  109 

settle  all  that.  I  never  bother  my  brain  about  polit- 
ical matters.  They  do  not  concern  us  women — 
we  should  not  understand  them.  When  the  storm 

breaks  loose  then  we  fall  to  praying " 

"  That  the  storm  may  burst  above  our  neighbor, 
not  upon  us,  naturally,"  I  replied. 

DEAR  MADAM  : 

A  friend — perhaps  also  an  enemy,  but  at  the 
same  time  one  who  knows  what  he  is  talking  about — in- 
forms you  by  this  letter  that  you  are  deceived — in  the 
most  treacherous  manner  deceived.  Your  apparently 
pious  husband  and  your  innocent  looking  friend  do  not 
deserve  your  confidence.  You  poor,  blind  woman  !  I 
have  my  reasons  for  tearing  off  their  masks.  I  do  not 
inform  you  of  this  out  of  kindness  to  you,  for  I  am  sure 
the  knowledge  of  the  deception  of  these  two  loved  friends 
will  give  you  much  pain;  but  I  owe  you  no  special  regard. 
Perhaps  I  am  a  repulsed  admirer  seeking  to  revenge  him- 
self. Of  what  consequence  is  it  what  the  motive  may  be? 
The  fact  is  there,  and  you  can  make  the  most  of  it. 
Without  evidence  you  will  not  believe  an  anonymous 
letter.  The  enclosed  note  was  lost  by  the  Countess  G . 

This  astonishing  document  lay  on  our  breakfast 
table  one  fine  spring  morning.  Frederick  sat  oppo- 
site me,  busy  with  his  meal,  while  I  read  and  re- 
read this  letter.  The  treacherous  note  enclosed  was 
in  another  envelope  and  I  hesitated  to  open  it. 

I  looked  up  at  Frederick.  He  was  buried  in  the 
morning  paper  but  must  have  become  conscious  of 
my  earnest  glance,  for  he  dropped  it  and  with  his 
usual  smiling  face  turned  his  head  toward  me. 

"  Well,  what  is  the  matter,  Martha?  What  are 
you  staring  at  me  for?" 

"  I  want  to  know  whether  you  still  love  me." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,"  he  answered,  laughing.  "  To 
tell  the  truth,  I  never  could  endure  you." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that." 

"But  what  is  it,  is  anything  the  matter?  You 
look  faint." 

I  hesitated.  Should  I  show  him  the  letter? 
Should  I  first  examine  the  evidence  I  held  in  my 
hand?  My  head  whirled.  My  Frederick,  my  all, 


110  "GROUND  ARMSr 

my  friend  and  husband,  my  confidant  and  lover — 
could  he  be  lost  to  me.  Unfaithful — he!  Perhaps 
it  was  only  a  momentary  passion,  nothing  more. 
Was  there  not  enough  forbearance  in  my  heart  to 
forget  and  forgive  that,  as  if  nothing  had  happened? 
But  the  treachery!  How  would  it  be  if  his  heart 
had  turned  from  me  and  he  really  loved  the  beauti- 
ful Lori? 

"Speak!  Why  do  you  not  speak?  Show  me  the 
letter  which  has  frightened  you?" 

He  leaned  over  and  took  the  letter  out  of  my 
hand. 

I  retained  the  inclosed  note. 

His  eye  flew  over  the  pages.  With  an  oath  he 
tore  the  letter  to  pieces  and  sprang  from  his  seat. 

"  It  is  infamous!"  he  cried.  "Where  is  the  so- 
called  evidence?" 

"  Here,  I  have  not  opened  it.  Frederick,  say  the 
word  and  I  will  throw  the  thing  into  the  fire.  I  do 
not  wish  any  evidence  that  you  have  deceived  me." 

"My  darling!  "  he  was  at  my  side  in  an  instant 
and  caught  me  in  his  arms,  "my  jewel!  Look  me 
in  the  eye — do  you  doubt  me?  Evidence  or  no  evi- 
dence— does  my  word  satisfy  you?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  and  threw  the  envelope  in  the 
grate. 

Frederick  sprang  to  catch  it. 

"  No,  no,  that  would  not  do.  I  am  curious.  We 
will  look  at  it  together.  I  do  not  remember  that  I 
ever  wrote  anything  to  your  friend  which  would 
indicate  the  least  interest  in  her." 

"  But  she  likes  you,  Frederick.  You  only  need  to 
drop  your  handkerchief." 

"  Oh,  are  you  sure  of  that?  Come,  let  us  read 
this  precious  document.  Right,  it  is  my  hand. 
Ah!  see  here,  it  is  the  few  lines  which  you  dictated 
yourself  some  weeks  ago  when  your  right  hand  was 
lame." 

My  Lori,  come,  I  expect  you  with  pleasure  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  MARTHA  (still  a  cripple). 

"  The  finder  of  the  note  evidently  did  not  under- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  Ill 

stand  it.  It  is  certainly  a  good  joke.  Let  us  be 
thankful  that  this  precious  evidence  was  not  truth 
—  my  innocence  is  established.  Or  are  you  still 
suspicious?" 

"  Frederick,  since  you  looked  me  in  the  eye  I 
have  not  had  a  doubt.  Do  you  know,  Frederick,  I 
was  frightfully  unhappy;  but  you  must  forgive  it. 
Lori  is  a  coquette,  very  beautiful — tell  me,  has  she 
not  made  advances?  You  shake  your  head.  Of 
course,  you  are  right  in  that,  it  is  really  your  duty 
to  lie  to  me.  A  man  must  never  betray  the  neg- 
lected or  accepted  favors  of  women." 

"  You  would  really  pardon  a  temporary  aberra- 
tion. Are  you  not  jealous?" 

"  Yes,  painfully.  When  I  think  of  you  at  the 
feet  of  another — kissing  another  woman — cold  to 
me — passion  dead — it  is  frightful.  But  I  am  not 
afraid  of  losing  your  love.  Your  heart  will  never 
grow  cold  to  me,  that  I  am  sure  of — our  souls  are 
so  sympathetic — but " 

"But — I  understand.  You  need  not  accuse  me 
of  a  feeling  for  you  like  that  of  a  husband  after  his 
silver  wedding.  We  were  married  too  young  for 
that.  So  far  as  the  fire  of  youth  runs  in  my  veins 
I  burn  for  you, — though  I  am  forty  years  old.  You 
are  for  me  the  one  woman  on  this  earth.  The  hap- 
piness which  lies  in  the  knowledge  of  having  kept 
my  faith;  the  proud  confidence  with  which  one  can 
say  that  in  every  respect  this  bond  of  marriage  has 
been  kept  sacred — all  this  I  consider  so  beautiful 
that  I  would  not  lose  it  for  a  mere  moment  of  reck- 
less intoxication.  You  have  made  me  such  a 
happy  man,  Martha,  that  I  am  as  much  raised 
above  every  temptation  of  passion  or  pleasure  as 
the  owner  of  an  ingot  of  gold  is  above  the  desire 
to  win  a  penny." 

How  happy  I  was  made  by  these  words?  I  was 
thankful  to  the  anonymous  letter  writer  who  had 
called  them  out.  I  wrote  every  word  down  in  my 
journal.  Here  is  the  date,  January,  1865.  Ah,  how 
tar  back  that  now  seems! 


112  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

Frederick  remained  very  much  provoked.  He 
swore  he  would  find  out  the  author,  and  punish 
him. 

I  discovered  on  the  same  day  the  origin  and 
object  of  this  piece  of  literature.  The  result,  that 
Frederick  and  I  were  brought  nearer  to  each  other, 
the  originator  had  not  anticipated. 

That  afternoon  I  went  to  see  my  friend  Lori  in 
order  to  show  her  the  letter.  I  wished  to  inform 
her  that  she  evidently  had  an  enemy  who  had 
directed  suspicion  upon  her,  and  expected  to  laugh 
with  her  over  the  failure  of  the  intention  of  the 
sender. 

She  laughed  more  than  I  had  expected. 

"So  you  were  alarmed?  " 

"Yes,  terribly.  And  yet  I  came  very  near  burn- 
ing the  enclosed  note  without  reading  it." 

"  Then  the  whole  joke  would  have  been  spoiled." 

"What  joke?" 

"  Why,  you  would  in  the  end  have  believed  that 
I  really  had  betrayed  you.  I  will  take  this  oppor- 
tunity to  confess  that  in  a  crazy  moment — it  was  at 
a  dinner-party  at  your  father's,  when  I  sat  next  to 
Tilling,  and  because  I  had  been  drinking  too  much 
champagne — that  I  really,  so  to  speak,  offered  my 
heart  to  your  Frederick  on  a  presentation  salver." 

"And  he?" 

"He  gave  me  to  understand  at  once  that  he 
loved  you  above  everything,  and  would  be  faithful 
to  you  until  death.  In  order  that  you  might  more 
fully  appreciate  such  a  phenomenon  I  got  up  the 
whole  thing." 

"  What  joke  are  you  continually  talking  about?  " 

"  You  know  very  well  that  the  letter  and  con- 
tents came  from  me." 

"  From  you?" 

"Yes,  see  here,  turn  the  paper  over,  look  at  the 
date:  the  first  of  April." 

When  spring  came  and  the  usual  migrations 
began,  I  refused  to  accompany  my  father  to  Gru- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  113 

mitz,  preferring  to  remain  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Vienna,  where  I  could  see  Frederick  daily.  My 
sisters  and  Aunt  Marie  went  to  Marienbad.  Just 
before  leaving  Prague,  Lilli  wrote  me: 

"  I  will  acknowledge  that  Cousin  Conrad  begins  to  be 
not  quite  so  disagreeable  to  me.  I  have  been  in  the 
humor  during  many  a  dance  this  winter  to  answer  '  Yes,' 
if  he  would  only  repeat  his  question;  but  he  never  seized 
the  right  opportunity.  I  have,  in  fact,  become  so  accus- 
tomed when  he  propounds  his  '  Will  you  be  my  wife?  '  to 
answer,  '  I  cannot  think  of  it,'  that  I  could  scarce  this 
time  add  to  it :  '  Ask  me  again  in  sfx  months.'  If  I  can- 
not forget  him  this  summer  then  the  obstinate,  persistent 
cousin  will  have  conquered." 

About  the  same  time  Aunt  Marie  wrote  (as  it 
happens,  it  is  the  only  letter  from  her  which  I  have 
saved) : 

MY  DEAR  CHILD  : 

It  has  been  a  tiresome  winter  campaign.  I  shall 
be  thoroughly  rejoiced  when  the  time  comes  that  Rosa 
and  Lilli  shall  each  find  their  match.  They  have  had 
opportunities  enough,  for  they  have  each  rejected  a  quar- 
ter of  a  dozen — without  counting  the  perennial  Conrad. 
The  torment  begins  again  shortly  in  Marienbad.  I  would 
gladly  go  to  Grumitz,  or  would  join  you,  but  instead  must 
take  up  this  tiresome  and  thankless  task  of  chaperon  to 
two  pleasure-loving  girls. 

I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  that  you  are  well.  (I  had  suf- 
fered a  long  attack  of  fever.)  Now  that  it  is  over  I  can 
tell  you  how  alarmed  your  husband  was.  But  your  time 
has  not  yet  come,  thank  God!  The  special  propitia- 
tory services  which  I  ordered  at  the  Ursulines  aided  un- 
doubtedly in  bringing  about  your  restoration  to  health. 
The  dear  God  will  preserve  you  for  your  little  Rudolph. 
Kiss  him  for  me;  tell  him  he  must  learn  all  he  can.  I 
send  him  by  this  mail  a  few  books:  'The  Pious  Child 
and  His  Guardian  Angel ' — a  beautiful  story — and  '  The 
Heroes  of  Our  Country,"  a  collection  of  war  stories  for 
boys.  We  cannot  begin  too  soon  to  inspire  the  youth 
with  such  glorious  ideas.  Your  brother  Otto  was  scarce 
five  years  old  when  I  told  him  the  stories  of  Alexander, 
of  Caesar,  and  other  great  warriors,  and  see  how  enthusi- 
astic a  lover  of  all  that  is  heroic  he  now  is — it  is  a  delight 
to  me. 


114  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

I  have  heard  that  you  intend  to  remain  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Vienna  all  summer.  I  suppose  it  is  on  ac- 
count of  your  husband,  but  I  should  think  you  owe  some 
duty  to  your  father.  Believe  me,  it  is  not  prudent  for 
married  people  to  stick  so  closely  together;  they  should 
allow  each  other  some  little  liberty. 

Heaven  protect  you  and  little  Rudi  is  the  constant 
prayer  of  your  loving  AUNT  MARIE. 

P.  S. — Your  husband  has  relatives  in  Prussia  (fortu- 
nately he  is  not  so  arrogant  as  his  countrymen).  Ask 
him  what  they  are  saying  there  about  the  present  polit- 
ical complication.  It  is  rather  critical. 

This  letter  first  brought  the  fact  to  my  notice 
that  there  again  existed  a  "political  complication." 

"What  does  Aunt  Marie  mean  by  'critical,'  you 
less  than  ordinarily  arrogant  Prussian?"  I  asked 
my  husband,  handing  him  the  letter.  "  Is  there 
really  an  unusual  political  situation?" 

"  There  is — just  as  there  always  is — a  storm  in 
prospect.  The  present  situation  is  particularly  un- 
stable and  treacherous." 

"  Does  it  relate  to  the  Duchies  of  the  Elbe  again? 
Has  not  that  been  settled?" 

"  Far  from  it.  The  Schleswig-Holsteiners  have 
more  than  half  a  mind  to  throw  over  the  arrogant 
Prussians.  '  Rather  Danish  than  Prussian,'  they 
cry." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  Augustenburg.  Do 
not  tell  me,  Frederick,  that  they  will  not  have 
him.  On  account  of  this  sole  just  heir,  so  longed 
for  by  the  oppressed  Danish  provinces,  the  whole 
war  was  brought  about.  Give  me  at  least  the  com- 
fort of  knowing  that  Augustenburg  was  installed 
in  his  rights  and  that  he  reigns  over  the  undivided 
duchies.  On  this  'undivided  '  I  take  my  stand;  it 
is  an  old  historical  right  which  has  been  pledged 
for  several  hundred  years,  whose  whole  history  I 
studied  with  such  painstaking  care." 

"  It  has  gone  rather  hardly  with  your  histor- 
ical claims,  my  poor  Martha,"  laughed  Frederick. 
"  Outside  of  his  own  protests  and  manifestoes  we 
hear  no  more  of  Augustenburg." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  115 

Naturally  I  began  at  once  to  study  the  political 
situation,  and  discovered  that,  notwithstanding  the 
Vienna  treaty,  nothing  was  really  settled.  The 
Schleswig-Holstein  question  was  a  more  formidable 
one  to  solve  than  ever — it  would  not  down.  After 
the  enforced  retirement  of  Gllicksburg,  Augusten- 
burg  and  Oldenburg  hastened  to  lay  their  claims 
before  the  German  Alliance.  The  Province  of 
Lauenburg  petitioned  earnestly  to  be  annexed  to 
Prussia.  Each  of  the  two  great  powers  was  ac- 
cused of  seeking  to  overreach  the  other. 

"  What  do  these  arrogant  Prussians  want? "  was 
the  continual  suspicious  cry  from  Austria,  the 
Middle  States,  and  the  duchies.  Napoleon  III. 
advised  Prussia  to  annex  the  duchies  up  to  the 
boundaries  of  the  Danish-speaking  provinces.  But 
for  the  present  Prussia  pretended  not  to  be  willing 
to  consider  the  suggestion.  At  last,  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  February,  1865,  Prussia  formally  an- 
nounced the  claims  decided  upon:  Prussian  troops 
were  to  occupy  the  provinces;  all  provincial  troops 
by  land  or  water  were  to  acknowledge  the  suprem- 
acy of  Prussia,  the  only  exception  being  a  contin- 
gent representing  the  Alliance.  The  harbor  of 
Kiel  was  seized;  the  postal  and  telegraph  systems 
were  to  be  under  the  control  of  Prussia,  and  the 
duchies  must  join  the  Customs  Union.  These 
demands  angered  our  Minister  of  War,  Mensdorf- 
Ponilly — I  did  not  see  why;  and  at  the  same  time 
— I  did  not  see  any  reason  for  it  except  jeal- 
ousy— the  Middle  States  took  it  to  heart.  These 
last  energetically  demanded  that  Augustenburg 
should  be  at  once  put  in  possession  of  the  duchies. 
Austria,  however,  had  something  to  say,  and  said 
it,  treating  Augustenburg's  claims  as  of  no  conse- 
quence. It  would  gladly  agree  to  the  Prussian  pos- 
session of  the  harbor  of  Kiel,  but  would  not  toler- 
ate the  right  to  recruit  soldiers  or  sailors. 

Prussia  declared  that  the  demands  made  were 
not  for  absolute  annexation,  but  solely  to  secure 
the  interests  of  the  whole  of  Germany.  Augusten- 


116  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

burg  might,  by  recognizing  the  above  claims,  be 
invested  with  his  prescriptive  right;  but  in  case 
this  was  not  agreed  upon — with  an  increasingly 
threatening  manner — Prussia  might  be  compelled 
to  insist  upon  still  greater  demands. 

Bitter,  defiant,  vindictive  voices  were  raised  in 
the  Middle  States  and  Austria  against  this  "in- 
solent" announcement,  and  the  public  sentiment 
against  Prussia  and  Bismarck  was  daily  intensi- 
fied. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  June  the  Middle  States 
demanded  information  (information  is  not  a  dip- 
lomatic custom — secrecy  is  the  only  proper  thing), 
but  the  two  superior  powers  continued  their  pri- 
vate negotiations.  King  William  betook  himself 
to  Gastein,  the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph  to  Ischl. 
Count  Blome  flew  unremittingly  between  them 
and  upon  several  points  an  agreement  was  reached. 
The  investment  should  be  half  Austrian  and  half 
Prussian.  Lauenburg  should  be  annexed  to  Prus- 
sia as  it  desired.  As  compensation  therefor  Austria 
was  to  receive  two  and  a  half  million  dollars.  I 
could  not  feel  any  particular  patriotic  pleasure 
at  this.  How  would  this  insignificant  sum  benefit 
the  thirty-six  millions  of  Austrians,  even  if  it  were 
divided  among  them — which  would  not  be  done? 
Would  it  make  good  the  hundred  thousand  I  had 
lost  through  Schmitt  &  Sons  by  reason  of  the  war, 
or  replace  the  loss  of  those  for  whom  thousands 
wept?  I  was  rejoiced  that  on  the  fourteenth  of 
August  a  new  treaty  was  signed  at  Gastein. 
"Treaty "  sounds  so  reassuring.  Later  I  learned 
that  treaties  are  generally  made  to  form  the  basis 
for  some  future  casus  belli.  One  needs  only  to 
assert  that  a  treaty  has  been  outraged  and — with 
all  the  appearance  of  justification — out  springs  the 
sword  from  the  scabbard. 

For  the  time,  however,  the  Gastein  treaty  quieted 
me.  General  Gablenz  —  the  handsome  Gablenz, 
for  whom  all  womankind  were  fired  with  enthusi- 
asm— was  in  command  in  Holstein,  Manteuffel  in 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  117 

Schleswig.  Of  the  promise  of  1460,  that  the  prov- 
inces should  remain  forever  united,  there  was  of 
course  nothing  more  heard.  And  my  Augusten- 
burg,  for  whose  rights  I  had  so  strenuously  battled, 
had  the  painful  experience  of  receiving  a  gentle 
warning  from  Manteuffel,  when  he  ventured  to  set 
foot  within  his  duchy  and  was  jubilantly  received 
by  the  populace.  In  strictly  courteous,  but  no 
uncertain  language,  he  was  advised  that  incarcer- 
ation in  a  moist,  unpleasant  prison  awaited  him 
should  he  venture  there  again  without  permission. 
He  who  does  not  regard  this  as  a  sarcasm  of  the 
muse  Clio  has  no  comprehension  of  the  comic  side 
of  history. 

Notwithstanding  the  Gastein  treaty,  affairs  did 
not  quiet  down.  By  patient  reading  of  all  the 
political  articles  in  the  daily  press  I  had  a  fair 
understanding  of  the  shifting  state  of  things.  I 
could  not  believe  that  war  would  result.  Such 
legal  questions  must  go  the  way  of  all  litigation; 
from  careful  consideration  of  equitable  rights  a 
just  judgment  must  ensue.  Certainly  all  these 
judicious  diplomatists  and  privy  councilors,  these 
parliamentary  leaders  and  politely  fraternal  mon- 
archs  could  find  some  common  ground  to  settle 
general  differences.  More  out  of  curiosity  than 
anxiety  I  followed  the  course  of  events,  whose  reg- 
ular order  I  noted  in  my  journal. 

The  first  of  October,  1865.  In  the  Imperial  Council  at 
Frankfort  the  following  resolutions  were  adopted: 

1.  The  autonomy  of   the    Schleswig-Holstein  people 
must  be  preserved.    The  Treaty  of  Gastein  was  rejected 
as  an  infringement  of  the  rights  of  the  nation. 

2.  All  officials  should  refuse  to  pay  over  to  these 
allied   powers  taxes  and  loans  ordered  by  the  former 
government. 

October  15.  A  royal  Prussian  edict  declared  approba- 
tion of  the  decision  in  regard  to  the  hereditary  claim  of 
Prince  Augustenburg.  The  father  of  the  latter,  for  him- 
self and  his  successors,  abrogated  all  claims  to  the  throne 
in  consideration  of  the  sum  of  one  and  a  half  million 
dollars. 


118  "GROUND  ARMS  I" 

By  the  Vienna  treaty  the  duchies  were  ceded  to  the 
allies;  henceforth  the  Augustenburgs  can  make  no  fur- 
ther claims. 

There  was  a  continually  increasing  protest  against 
"  Prussian  arrogance,"  which  became  a  species  of 
battle-cry.  "  We  must  protect  ourselves  against 
them  "  was  declared  as  authoritatively  as  dogma. 
"  King  William  aspires  to  the  rdle  of  Victor  Em- 
anuel  in  Germany."  "  Austria  has  the  secret  inten- 
tion of  re-conquering  Silesia."  "  Prussia  is  coquet- 
ting with  France."  "Austria  is  courting  France"; 
et patati  et  patata,  as  the  French  say,  a  species  of  mu- 
tual recrimination  which  is  indulged  in  by  cabinets 
as  it  is  by  the  gossips  round  the  village  tea-kettle. 

With  autumn  the  whole  family  returned  to 
Vienna.  I  would  not  go  to  Grumitz  for  the  hunt- 
ing season,  as  my  husband  could  not  secure  a  leave 
of  absence.  I  was  also  unwilling  for  any  length  of 
time  to  place  my  little  Rudolph  under  the  influence 
of  his  grandfather,  who  was  determined  to  instill 
into  his  childish  mind  all  sorts  of  martial  notions. 
The  desire  for  a  military  career  had  already  been 
awakened  in  my  son.  Perhaps  it  was  in  the  blood. 
The  scion  of  a  long  line  of  soldiers  must  naturally 
develop  warlike  tendencies.  In  the  works  on  the 
natural  sciences,  which  I  studied  more  enthusiasti- 
cally than  ever,  I  had  learned  the  force  of  heredity, 
the  result  of  natural  tendencies,  which  is  nothing 
more  than  the  pressure  of  the  mental  and  physical 
habits  acquired  from  a  line  of  ancestry. 

On  his  birthday  his  grandfather  bought  him  a 
saber. 

"  You  know  very  well,  Papa,"  I  said  angrily, 
"that  I  will  not  allow  Rudolph  to  become  a  soldier. 
I  most  earnestly  beg  of  you " 

"  Now,  now,  you  would  like  to  keep  him  tied  to 
your  apron-strings.  It  is  to  be  hoped  you  will  be 
disappointed.  Good  soldier's  blood  will  tell. 
When  the  boy  is  grown  he  will  choose  his  own 
profession — and  a  nobler  one  is  not  to  be  found 
than  that  which  you  deny  him." 


"GROUND  ARMS  I"  119 

"  Martha  is  afraid  of  the  danger  to  which  her 
only  son  will  be  exposed,"  remarked  Aunt  Marie, 
who  chanced  to  be  present,  "but  she  forgets  that 
when  one  is  ordained  to  die,  his  fate  will  meet  him 
whether  in  his  bed  or  on  the  battlefield." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  that  if  a  hundred  thou- 
sand men  are  fated  to  fall  in  battle,  the  same  num- 
ber would  come  to  their  end  in  time  of  peace?" 

Aunt  Marie  was  prepared  with  an  immediate 
reply. 

"  The  hundred  thousand  were  decreed  to  die  in 
battle." 

"  Suppose  men  were  clever  enough  to  refuse  to 
go  to  war? " 

"  That  is  an  impossibility,"  cried  my  father,  and 
the  usual  combat  began. 

There  is  nothing  to  which  the  fable  of  the  Hydra 
so  well  applies  as  to  that  monster,  unreasoning  con- 
viction. Scarce  have  we  cut  off  one  head  of  the 
argument  and  turned  to  tackle  the  second,  before 
the  first  is  grown  again  and  active  as  ever. 

My  father  always  had  a  few  favorite  arguments 
in  defense  of  war,  which  were  unconquerable: 

1.  Wars  are  the  decree  of  God ;  the  Lord  of  Hosts 
has  himself  ordained  them  (see  Holy  Writ). 

2.  Wars  have  always  existed,  therefore  they  will 
always  continue  to  exist. 

3.  The  earth,  without  this  destructive  agency, 
would  suffer  too  great  an  increase  of  population. 

4.  Perpetual  peace  would  relax  and  enervate  the 
race,  and  a  consequent  demoralization  would  ensue. 

5.  War  is  the  best  means  for  the  development 
of  self-sacrifice,  of  heroism,  in  short  for  the  strength- 
ening of  character. 

6.  Mankind  will  always  differ.     Complete   har- 
mony in  all  respects  is  not  possible;  different  in- 
terests   must  be  antagonistic;  consequently  to  ex- 
pect perpetual  peace  is  an  absurdity. 

None  of  these  wise  sayings  can  be  logically  main- 
tained when  you  show  their  absurdity;  but  each 
serves  its  defender  as  a  breastwork  when  he  sees 


120  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

the  preceding  fall  around  him,  and  while  he  re- 
treats from  the  ruins  of  the  one  he  intrenches  him- 
self in  the  old  earthworks  round  the  other.  For 
example,  finding  number  four  no  longer  tenable, 
and  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  a  condition  of 
peace  is  for  humanity  more  certain  of  securing 
happiness,  intellectual  progress,  and  financial  pros- 
perity, he  will  agree:  "  War  is  in  truth  an  evil,  but 
unavoidable." 

Then,  when  in  reply  to  numbers  one  and  two  it 
is  proved  that  by  international  agreement,  by  in- 
ternational jurisprudence,  war  could  be  avoided,  he 
acknowledges  that  it  could  but  should  not.  Then, 
at  number  five  the  tables  are  turned,  and  the  advo- 
cate of  peace  proves  that,  on  the  contrary,  war 
develops  all  the  brutality  and  inhumanity  of  man. 
"  Well,  possibly,  but  there  is  yet  number  three." 
This  argument,  when  brought  forward  by  the 
defenders  of  war,  is  of  all  the  most  uncandid.  It 
serves,  in  truth,  far  better  those  who  detest  war. 
He  who  loves  war  and  would  retain  it  as  a  factor 
of  existence  certainly  does  so  from  no  thought  of 
the  welfare  of  succeeding  generations.  The  violent 
decimation  of  the  present  generation  by  death,  by 
epidemic  disease  and  impoverishment,  the  result  of 
war,  is  certainly  not  deliberately  planned  to  pro- 
tect the  future  from  possible  starvation  and  suffer- 
ing. If  human  means  were  necessary  to  obstruct  for 
the  general  welfare  a  too  rapid  increase  of  popula- 
tion, a  more  direct  measure  might  be  conceived  than 
war.  The  argument  is  but  a  trick  which  meets 
with  success,  because  for  the  moment  it  puzzles  us. 
It  sounds  so  monstrously  learned  and  so  humane. 
For  think  upon  it;  we  ought  to  leave  elbow  room 
for  our  descendants  a  thousand  years  from  now. 
But  few  people  are  conversant  with  such  matters 
of  social  economy  and  natural  law;  but  few  are 
aware  that  the  relative  rate  of  deaths  and  births 
remains  about  the  same,  that  the  danger  to  exist- 
ence, developed  by  unusual  vicissitudes,  does  not 
reduce  population,  but  rather  tends  to  increase  it. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  121 

After  a  war  the  number  of  births  increases  and  the 
loss  is  soon  made  good;  after  a  long  peace  popu- 
lation decreases,  and  so  this  phantom  of  surplus 
population  disappears.  All  this  we  do  not  keep 
clearly  in  view;  we  only  feel  instinctively  that  this 
famous  number  three  is  not  quite  right,  and  is  not 
honestly  believed  by  the  opponent.  One  is  gen- 
erally satisfied  to  quote  the  old  proverb:  "  It  is 
already  provided  that  trees  shall  not  grow  into  the 
heavens,"  and  to  add  that  the  powers  that  be  do 
not  have  this  result  in  mind. 

The  contention  will  never  end.  The  military 
mind  reasons  in  a  circle,  where  we  may  continually 
pursue  but  never  come  up  with  it. 

New  Year's  Eve,  1866.  We  sat  together  around 
my  father's  table  when  the  first  hour  struck  of  this 
momentous  year.  When  the  hand  of  the  clock 
pointed  at  twelve  and  shots  were  fired  on  the  street 
below,  our  enterprising  cousin  Conrad  drew  Lilli 
to  him  and — to  our  surprise — pressing  his  lips  to 
hers,  boldly  asked: 

"Will  you  have  me  in  '66?" 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  she  roguishly  replied,  and  congrat- 
ulations were  showered  upon  them. 

My  father  brought  the  tumult  to  an  end  by  strik- 
ing his  seal  ring  upon  his  glass  as  he  rose  to  offer 
his  New  Year's  toast: 

"  My  dear  children  and  friends,  the  new  year 
begins  well,  with  the  prospect  of  the  fulfillment  of 
my  dearest  wish,  for  I  have  long  wanted  Conrad  as 
a  son-in-law.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  during  this 
year  Rosa  may  find  her  ideal  and  that  you — Mar- 
tha and  Tilling — may  have  a  visit  from  the  stork. 
For  you,  Doctor  Bresser,  I  wish  swarms  of  patients 
— a  wish  not  quite  consistent  with  the  good  wishes 
we  have  all  exchanged;  and  for  you,  dear  Marie, 
who  are  so  fatalistically  inclined,  a  grand  prize 
or  a  full  indulgence,  or  whatever  else  you  desire. 
For  you,  my  Otto,  I  could  wish  all  manly  and  heroic 
virtues,  that  you  may  become  the  ornament  of  the 


122  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

army  and  the  pride  of  your  old  father's  heart. 
I  must  hope  something  for  myself,  and  since  I 
have  no  greater  desire  than  the  welfare  and  fame 
of  Austria,  may  the  coming  year  bring  Lombardy 
back  to  us — or,  who  knows? — Silesia  also.  It  is 
possible  that  we  may  re-conquer  from  the  arro- 
gant Prussian  this  province  stolen  from  the  great 
Maria  Theresa." 

I  remember  that  the  termination  of  my  father's 
oration  fell  like  a  cold  chill  upon  the  company. 

"  No,  dear  Father,"  I  replied;  "in  Italy  and  Prus- 
sia it  is  also  the  New  Year;  we  will  not  wish  them 
any  evil.  May  this  year  '66  make  all  mankind 
better,  more  harmonious,  and  happier." 

My  father  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  O,  you  fantastic  dreamer,"  he  said  compassion- 
ately. 

"No,"  replied  Frederick,  coming  to  my  relief, 
"  Martha's  wish  is  not  that  of  a  dreamer,  but  its 
fulfillment  is  pledged  to  us.  Mankind  has  grown 
better,  happier,  and  more  united  from  primeval 
ages  to  the  present,  but  so  slowly,  that  a  little  span 
of  time  like  a  year  can  mark  no  perceptible  prog- 
ress." 

"  If  you  are  so  sure  of  perpetual  progress,"  ex- 
claimed my  father,  "why  are  you  continually  com- 
plaining of  the  re-action,  of  the  relapse  into  bar- 
barism?" 

"  Because  " — and  Frederick  pulled  a  pencil  from 
his  pocket  and  drew  on  a  piece  of  paper  a  spiral — 
"because  the  progress  of  civilization  goes  on  just 
like  this.  Does  not  this  line  continually  ascend, 
though  it  appears  to  be  tending  backward.  This 
coming  year  may  be  represented  by  one  of  these 
curves,  particularly  if,  as  seems  only  too  probable, 
a  war  is  forced  upon  us.  Such  an  event  hurls  civ- 
ilization in  material  as  well  as  moral  things  a  long 
way  backward." 

"You  are  not  talking  like  a  soldier,  Tilling." 

"  I  am  talking  of  a  matter  of  universal  interest. 
Whether  my  views  are  right  or  wrong,  those  of  a 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  123 

soldier  or  a  civilian,  is  of  no  consequence.  The 
truth  is  always  the  same.  If  a  thing  is  red  should 
one  obstinately  maintain  that  it  is  blue?" 

"A  what?"  said  my  father.  When  a  discussion 
was  disagreeable,  he  was  very  apt  to  be  seized  by 
spasms  of  deafness.  Few  people  had  the  patience 
to  repeat,  and  most  of  them  preferred  to  give  up 
the  battle. 

When  we  had  returned  to  our  own  home,  I  asked 
my  husband: 

"  What  did  you  say,  that  there  is  prospect  of  war? 
I  will  not  allow  you  to  go  into  another  campaign — 
I  will  not." 

"  How  can  this  passionate  'I  will  not'  help  us, 
Martha.  The  nearer  the  war  is  to  our  door  the 
more  impossible  it  will  be  for  me  to  resign.  Im- 
mediately after  Schleswig-Holstein  it  was  possible, 
but  not  now." 

To  arms!  to  arms!  was  now  the  general  cry  For 
defensive  purposes  it  was  necessary  that  we  should 
arm  ourselves.  Prussia  maintained  that  we  were 
secretly  arming,  therefore  she  proceeded  to  arm 
herself.  What  is  the  use  of  all  this  clash  of  arms  if 
neither  intends  to  attack?  Whereupon  my  father 
quoted  the  old  proverb:  Si  vis  pacem,  para  bellum. 
Each  keeps  an  eye  upon  the  other;  each  accuses 
the  other  of  malice  aforethought. 

Again  this  endless  circle. 

On  the  twelfth  of  March  my  father  rushed,  beam- 
ing with  joy,  into  my  house. 

"  Hurrah!  "  he  cried;  "good  news!  " 

"Disarmament?"  I  questioned  eagerly. 

"On  the  contrary,  yesterday  a  great  council  of 
war  was  held,  and  our  military  condition  is  really 
magnificent.  We  are  ready  at  an  hour's  notice  to 
march  out  with  eight  hundred  thousand  men. 
Benedek,  our  ablest  strategist,  is  general-in-chief 
with  absolute  powers.  I  tell  you  in  confidence, 
child,  Silesia  is  ours  if  we  desire  it." 

For  days  uncertainty  was  all  we  knew.     On  the 


124  "GRO UND  ARMS!  " 

twenty-fourth  of  March  Prussia  issued  a  proclama- 
tion complaining  of  the  armament  of  Austria.  On 
the  twenty-eighth  it  was  announced  in  Berlin  that 
the  fortresses  in  Silesia  had  been  re-enforced  by 
Prussian  troops,  and  that  two  army  corps  were  in 
readiness  to  protect  the  country.  The  thirty-first 
of  March  Austria  disclaimed  any  intention  of  at- 
tacking Prussia,  and  demanded  that  the  latter  dis- 
arm. Prussia  also  declared  herself  as  innocent  of 
any  belligerent  intention  toward  Austria,  but,  in 
view  of  the  threatening  aspect  of  the  standing  army 
of  the  latter,  felt  compelled  to  continue  her  own 
preparations.  So  the  duet  continued.  Italy  organ- 
ized and  armed  as  fast  as  possible,  and  the  duet 
became  a  trio.  Austria  declared  herself  for  the 
rights  of  Augustenburg,  and  Prussia  complained 
that  this  was  a  breach  of  the  Treaty  of  Gastein. 

The  most  thoroughly  hated  man  in  Europe  was 
Bismarck.  An  attempt  was  made  upon  his  life. 
I  received  a  letter  from  Aunt  Cornelia  who  wrote 
that  in  Prussia  the  approach  of  war  was  regarded 
with  intense  dissatisfaction,  while  with  us  there 
was  general  enthusiasm  in  its  favor.  She  added 
that  Bismarck  was  almost  as  much  hated  and  feared 
in  Berlin  as  in  Vienna.  Loud  protests  were  heard 
against  this  "  fratricidal  war,"  and  it  was  said 
Queen  Augusta  had  implored  her  husband  to  in- 
sist upon  peace.  If  our  beautiful  Empress  had 
done  the  same,  and  every  other  woman  whose 
right  to  the  life  of  husband  and  son  is  greater  than 
that  of  the  state,  would  it  have  helped  the  cause 
of  peace  and  humanity? 

On  the  first  of  June  Prussia  announced  that  she 
would  disarm  when  Austria  and  Saxony  did  so; 
Austria  excused  herself  so  long  as  Italy's  full  equip- 
ment was  a  menace  to  her  borders,  and  demanded 
that  the  German  Alliance  undertake  the  settle- 
ment of  the  question  of  the  duchies.  Prussia  pro- 
tested, claiming  rights  granted  by  the  Gastein 
treaty;  the  Treaty  of  Vienna  was  appealed  to  as 
insuring  mutual  occupation;  Prussia  therefore  pro- 


"GROL'XD  ARMS!"  125 

ceeded  to  invest  Holstein  and  made  no  pretense  to 
any  right  to  obstruct  Austria's  possession  of  Schles- 
wig.  As  Prussian  troops  marched  into  Holstein 
Gablenz  retreated  without  drawing  sword,  but 
under  protest. 

Bismarck  had  said,  in  a  diplomatic  circular  just 
before  this  event,  that  Austria  had  not  met  the  ad- 
vances of  Prussia,  and  that  from  the  most  authen- 
tic sources  the  King  had  been  informed  of  expres- 
sions used  by  the  Emperor's  cabinet  ministers  and 
advisers  (tittle-tattle),  which  indicated  that  these 
men  were  determined  to  force  war  upon  the  coun- 
try, partly  in  the  hope  of  aggrandizement  by  suc- 
cess in  the  field,  and  partly  with  the  expectation 
of  improving  Austria's  bankrupt  financial  condition 
through  Prussian  tribute. 

On  the  ninth  of  June  Prussia  again  declared  that 
Parliament  had  no  authority  to  settle  the  Schles- 
wig-Holstein  question.  The  press  now  grew  more 
defiant  in  tone,  and,  as  is  the  patriotic  custom,  it 
was  certain  of  victory.  The  possibility  of  defeat 
must  never  be  suggested  to  the  loyal  subject  whose 
monarch  calls  him  into  the  battlefield.  Brilliant 
editorials  pictured  the  prospective  march  of  Bene- 
dek  into  Berlin,  as  well  as  the  probable  plundering 
of  the  city  by  the  Croats.  Some  journals  demanded 
that  Prussia's  capital  should  be  leveled  with  the 
ground.  "  To  pillage,"  "  Level  with  the  ground," 
"Put  to  the  sword" — these  expressions  do  not  rep- 
resent the  opinions  or  the  conscience  of  the  time, 
but  stick  to  people  who  learned  them  at  school — 
from  the  histories  of  wars  and  conquests.  Having 
been  copied  in  exercise  books  at  school  and  learned 
by  rote,  they  naturally  fly  to  the  point  of  the  pen  so 
soon  as  one  sits  down  to  discuss  the  theme  of  war. 
Contempt  for  the  enemy  cannot  be  expressed  too 
fiercely;  the  Vienna  press  no  longer  spoke  of  Prus- 
sian troops  otherwise  than  as  tailors'  apprentices. 
Adjutant-General  Count  Griinne  contemptuously 
declared  that  we  would  chase  these  Prussians  with 
wet  rags.  Such  are  the  conventional  methods  of 


126  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

making  a  war  "popular."  Such  things  nourish 
national  self-conceit. 

On  the  eleventh  of  June  Austria  appealed  to  the 
Imperial  Council  of  the  German  Confederation 
that  it  should  take  issue  with  Prussia's  investment 
of  Holstein,  and  call  out  all  the  troops  subject  to 
the  German  Alliance. 

On  the  fourteenth  of  June  this  appeal  came  up 
and  was  approved  by  a  vote  of  nine  to  six. 

All  is  over.  The  embassadors  have  received  their 
passports.  On  the  sixteenth  the  Imperial  Council 
called  upon  Austria  and  Bavaria  to  come  to  the 
help  of  Saxony  and  Hanover,  already  attacked  by 
Prussia. 

On  the  eighteenth  Prussia's  war  manifesto  was 
published.  On  the  same  date  the  manifesto  of  the 
Emperor  of  Austria  and  Benedek's  proclamation  to 
his  troops  were  announced.  On  the  twenty-second 
Prince  Frederick  Charles  issued  his  first  army 
order,  and  the  war  was  begun.  I  have  preserved 
these  four  documents. 

King  William  said: 

"Austria  never  forgets  that  her  princes  once  ruled 
Germany,  and  is  not  willing  to  recognize  in  Prussia  sim- 
ply a  member  of  the  Confederation,  but  always  regards 
her  as  a  rival.  Prussia,  she  insists,  must  be  antagonized 
in  all  her  undertakings,  because  what  benefits  Prussia 
injures  Austria.  An  old,  unjust  jealousy  has  again  burst 
out  into  fierce  flames;  Prussia  must  be  crushed,  destroyed 
and  dishonored.  Treaties  can  no  longer  be  observed 
with  her.  Wherever  we  turn  in  Germany,  we  find  our- 
selves surrounded  by  enemies  whose  battle-cry  is  the 
humiliation  of  Prussia.  To  the  very  last  moment  I  have 
sought  the  road  of  reconciliation — but  Austria  would  not 
agree  to  it." 

On  the  other  hand  the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph 
announces: 

"  The  latest  events  indicate  the  incontestible  intention 
of  Prussia  to  set  might  in  the  place  of  right.  So  that  this 
most  unholy  of  wars — a  war  of  German  against  German 
— has  become  unavoidable.  To  answer  for  all  the  misery 
to  be  brought  upon  individuals,  families,  and  country,  I 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  127 

summon  him,  who  has  precipitated  this  war,  before  the 
judgment  seat  of  history  and  of  the  eternal,  almighty 
God." 

Always  the  other  side  that  wishes  war!  Always 
the  other  one  who  is  accused  of  resolving  that 
might  shall  overcome  justice.  An  "unholy  war," 
because  it  was  "  German  against  German."  Quite 
right;  it  is  a  step  forward  when  above  Prussia  and 
Austria  the  appeal  to  Germany  is  made.  But  a 
much  higher  plane  would  be  reached  if  every  war 
were  recognized  as  a  war  of  mankind  against  man- 
kind, that  is,  civilized  man  against  civilized  man, 
and  were  regarded  as  an  unholy  fratricidal  contest. 

And  of  what  use  to  summon  before  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  history?  History  as  hitherto  written 
gives  judgment  to  the  victor.  Around  the  con- 
queror falls  the  golden  halo  of  history,  and  he 
becomes  the  great  promoter  of  civilization. 

And  before  the  judgment  seat  of  God,  the 
Almighty?  Is  he  not  the  same  who  is  always  repre- 
sented as  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  and  is  the  outbreak 
as  well  as  the  termination  of  every  war  other  than 
the  result  of  the  immutable  will  of  this  same 
Almighty?  Oh,  contradiction  upon  contradiction! 
Where  shall  we  find  truth  under  all  these  con- 
ventional phrases,  where  two  antagonistic  princi- 
ples— war  and  justice,  international  hatred  and 
love  of  humanity,  the  God  of  Love  and  the  God  of 
Battles — are  set  against  each  other  as  equally  holy. 

And  Benedek  said: 

"  We  find  opposed  to  us  an  armed  force  composed  of 
two  distinct  parts:  militia  and  troops  of  the  line.  The 
first  is  composed  of  young  men  unaccustomed  to  fatigue 
or  privation,  who  have  never  engaged  in  an  important 
campaign.  The  last  consists  of  an  untrustworthy,  dis- 
satisfied element,  which  had  much  rather  attack  its  own 
unpopular  government  than  fight  against  us.  In  conse- 
quence of  long  years  of  peace  the  enemy  does  not  possess 
one  single  general  who  has  had  the  opportunity  to  perfect 
himself  upon  the  battlefield.  Veterans  of  Mincio  and 
Palestro,  I  hope  under  your  old  experienced  leaders  you 
will  not  give  such  opponents  the  slightest  advantage. 


128  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

For  some  time  the  enemy  has  boasted  of  his  new  rapid- 
firing  rifles;  but,  my  men,  I  think  we  will  not  allow  him 
to  put  these  into  use.  We  will  charge  upon  him  with 
bayonets  and  clubs.  With  God's  help  the  enemy  will  be 
beaten  and  forced  to  retreat;  we  will  follow  close  upon 
his  heels,  and  in  the  enemy's  country  you  will  find  rest 
and  compensation  in  the  richest  measure,  to  which  such 
a  victorious  army  has  the  fullest  right." 

Prince  Frederick  Charles  finally  spoke: 

"  Soldiers!  Faithless  and  treacherous  Austria  has  with- 
out declaration  of  war  long  since  ceased  to  respect  the 
Prussian  boundaries  of  Upper  Silesia.  I  should  have 
been  justified,  even  before  a  declaration  of  war,  in  cross- 
ing the  Bohemian  frontier.  I  have  not  done  it.  To-day 
I  issue  this  general  order,  and  to-day  we  will  enter  the 
territory  of  the  enemy  in  order  to  spare  our  own  country. 
Our  beginning  is  with  God.  (Is  this  the  same  God  with 
whose  help  Benedek  has  promised  to  drive  back  the 
enemy  with  bayonets  and  clubs?)  In  his  hands  we  rest 
our  cause  who  guides  the  hearts  of  men,  who  decides 
the  fate  of  nations  and  the  outcome  of  battles.  As  it  is 
written  in  Holy  Scripture :  '  Lift  up  your  hearts  to  the 
Lord  and  your  hands  against  the  enemy.' 

"On  the  issue  of  this  war  depends,  as  you  know,  Prus- 
sia's holiest  interests  and  the  existence  of  our  beloved 
country.  The  enemy  is  determined  upon  its  partition 
and  humiliation.  Shall  the  streams  of  blood  shed  by  our 
fathers  under  Frederick  the  Great,  and  by  ourselves  at 
Diippel  and  Alsen,  have  been  shed  in  vain?  Never!  We 
will  not  only  maintain  Prussia  as  she  is,  but  make  her, 
through  victory,  mightier  and  more  glorious  than  ever. 
We  will  be  worthy  of  our  fathers.  We  depend  upon  the 
God  of  our  fathers  that  he  will  be  gracious  to  us  and  bless 
Prussia's  arms.  And  now,  forward  with  our  old  battle- 
cry:  '  With  God  for  king  and  country.  Long  live  the 
king!'" 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  129 

FOURTH  BOOK. 

1866. 

SO  it  was  here  again,  that  greatest  of  all  con- 
ceivable miseries,  and  was  hailed  by  the  popu- 
lace with  the  usual  jubilant  shout.  The  regiments 
marched  out  (would  they  ever  return?)  with  bless- 
ings and  cheers,  followed  by  the  wild  plaudits  of  the 
youngsters  of  the  streets  and  alleys. 

Frederick  had  already  been  ordered  to  Bohemia 
before  the  declaration  of  war.  This  time  I  was 
spared  the  heart-rending  parting  which  followed 
the  direct  order  into  the  field.  When  my  father 
brought  me  the  triumphant  assurance,  "now  it  has 
begun,"  I  had  already  been  alone  fourteen  days, 
during  which  I  had  lived  like  the  criminal  in  hourly 
expectation  of  sentence  of  death. 
I  bowed  my  head  and  said  nothing. 
"  Be  of  good  courage,  child.  The  war  will  not 
last  long — day  after  to-morrow  we  may  be  in 
Berlin.  Your  husband  returned  from  Schleswig- 
Holstein  in  safety,  so  he  will  probably  get  back 
from  this  campaign  with  brighter  laurels  than  ever. 
Unpleasant  as  it  must  be  to  him,  being  of  Prussian 
origin,  to  fight  against  Prussia,  still  he  is  Austrian 
to  the  core.  Those  Prussians!  We  will  drive  them 
out  of  the  German  Confederation — the  arrogant 
wind-bags!  They  will  have  reason  to  repent  when 

Silesia  is  again  ours  and  when  the  Hapsburgs " 

I  stretched  out  my  hands: 
"Father,  I  implore  you,  let  me  alone." 
He  may  have  suspected  an  outbreak  of  tears,  and 
as  he  was  an  enemy  of  all  pathetic  scenes  he  hastily 
retired.     But  I  had   no  place  for  tears.     It  was  as 
if   a   crushing    blow   had   fallen     upon    my   head. 
Breathing  with  difficulty,  staring  at  vacancy,  I  sat 


130  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

motionless.     Finally  I  rose  and  going  to  my  desk 
wrote  in  my  red  journal: 

"  The  sentence  of  death  has  been  passed.  A  hundred 
thousand  human  beings  will  be  executed.  Will  Frederick 
be  among  them?  And  I  among  them — for  what  am  I 
that  I  should  escape  destruction  with  the  other  hundred 
thousand?  I  wish  I  were  already  dead." 

On  the  same  day  I  received  from  Frederick  a 
few  hastily  written  lines. 

"  My  wife!  Be  brave,  keep  up  your  heart.  We  have 
been  happy;  the  past  no  mortal  can  take  from  us,  even  if 
for  us,  as  for  many  others,  the  decree  is  issued.  To-day 
we  advance  upon  the  enemy.  Perhaps  I  shall  recognize 
among  them  a  few  old  comrades  of  Diippel  and  Alsen — 
possibly  my  cousin  Gottfried.  We  march  upon  Liebenau 
with  the  advance  guard  of  Count  Clam-Gallas.  From 
this  time  expect  no  letters,  or  at  the  most  a  line,  should  I 
have  the  opportunity  to  assure  you  of  my  safety.  I  can 
think  of  but  one  word  which  expresses  my  whole  love  for 
you — Martha!  You  know  all  that  means  to  me." 

Conrad  Althaus  had  also  been  ordered  into  the 
field.  He  was  full  of  fire  and  martial  ardor  and 
infused  with  the  necessary  hatred  of  Prussia  to 
enable  him  to  go  cheerfully;  but  the  parting  was 
hard.  The  official  permission  to  marry  had  arrived 
but  two  days  before  marching  orders. 

"Oh  Lilli,  Lilli,"  he  exclaimed,  "why  have  you 
hesitated  so  long?  Who  knows  whether  I  shall 
ever  return? " 

My  poor  sister  was  filled  with  remorse.  Passion- 
ate love  now  awoke  and  she  wept  bitterly  in  my 
arms. 

"  Why  have  I  been  so  foolish!  If  I  were  only  his 
wife!  " 

"  That  would  have  made  the  parting  much  harder 
my  poor  Lilli." 

I  joined  the  family  at  Grumitz.  I  was  oppressed 
with  the  idea  of  widowhood.  Occasionally  the 
cheerful  thought  of  the  possibility  of  Frederick's 
return  restored  me  to  a  more  temperate  frame  of 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  131 

mind,  but  it  was  not  for  long.  I  constantly  saw 
him  wounded,  suffering  untold  agony,  perishing  for 
a  drop  of  water,  heavy  wagons  rolling  over  his  mu- 
tilated limbs,  gnats  and  stinging  insects  torment- 
ing his  open  wounds,  or  the  people  employed  to 
bury  the  dead  carrying  him  yet  living  to  be  thrown 
into  the  trench. 

With  a  shriek  I  sprang  up  at  this  thought  and 
my  father  scolded  angrily. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Martha?  You  will 
become  insane  if  you  brood  in  this  way.  Drive  all 
such  thoughts  from  your  mind.  It  is  wicked." 

I  had  several  times  given  utterance  to  these  fears, 
which  exasperated  my  father  to  the  highest  degree. 

"Wicked,"  he  continued,  "and  improper  and 
foolish.  Such  things  occur  once  in  a  thousand 
times  among  private  soldiers,  but  they  would  not 
neglect  a  staff  officer  like  your  husband.  One 
should  not  think  about  such  horrible  things.  It  is 
a  species  of  frivolity,  of  desecration  of  war,  if  one 
allows  the  misery  of  the  individual  to  keep  out  of 
view  the  grandeur  of  the  result." 

"  Yes,  yes,  do  not  think  of  it,"  I  answered.  "  That 
is  the  proper  attitude  in  regard  to  all  human  mis- 
ery. Not  think!  and  barbarism  rests  upon  it." 

The  Red  Cross  organization  had  been  created  a 
little  time  before.  I  had  read  the  pamphlet  of 
Dunant  which  had  suggested  its  necessity.  The 
little  book  was  a  heart-breaking  cry  of  anguish. 
The  noble  author,  a  patrician  of  Geneva,  had 
hastened  to  the  field  of  Solferino;  and  what  he  saw 
there  he  told  to  all  the  world.  Countless  wounded 
had  lain  five,  some  even  six,  days  without  assist- 
ance. He  had  done  all  in  his  power,  but  what 
could  he,  a  single  man,  do  to  alleviate  this  mass  of 
misery?  He  saw  many  who  could  have  been  saved 
by  a  bit  of  bread  or  a  drop  of  water;  he  saw  others, 
still  breathing,  buried  with  frightful  haste.  Then 
he  spoke  out  what  had  often  before  been  realized, 
which  now  first  received  attention,  that  the  field 


132  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

hospital  organization  of  an  army  could  no  longer 
meet  the  necessities  of  a  modern  battlefield.  And 
the  Red  Cross  was  organized. 

Austria  had  not  sent  delegates  to  the  Geneva 
convention.  Why?  Why  is  everything  which  is 
new,  no  matter  how  simple  and  beneficent,  met  with 
opposition?  The  law  of  indolence — the  power  of 
sanctified  precedent.  "  The  idea  is  very  fine,  but 
impracticable,"  I  heard  my  father  several  times 
repeat  in  the  year  1863,  when  different  delegates 
had  argued  with  him.  "Impracticable,  and,  even 
if  practicable,  in  many  respects  undesirable.  The 
military  service  could  not  tolerate  the  presence 
of  private  individuals  on  the  battlefield.  In  war 
tactics  must  take  precedence  of  humanity.  How 
could  this  private  undertaking  prevent  its  abuse 
by  spies?  And  the  expense.  Does  not  war  cost 
enough  already?  The  volunteer  system  of  nurses 
would  become  burdensome  through  their  unavoid- 
able additional  cost;  or  if  they  provided  for  them- 
selves in  the  occupied  country,  would  not  this 
cause  greater  expense  to  the  commissary  depart- 
ment, by  consequent  rise  in  prices?" 

Oh,  this  magisterial  sagacity! — so  dry,  so  learned, 
so  neutral,  so  dripping  with  wisdom,  and — oh,  bot- 
tomless stupidity! 

The  first  engagement  in  Bohemia  took  place  on 
the  twenty-fifth  of  June  at  Liebenau.  The  report 
was  brought  by  my  father  with  his  usual  triumph- 
ant manner. 

"  It  is  a  magnificent  beginning!  We  see  that 
Heaven  is  with  us.  It  is  significant  that  the  first 
with  whom  these  wind-bags  have  had  to  deal  are 
our  men  of  the  famous  '  Iron  Brigade.'  You  remem- 
ber the  brigade  of  Poschacher,  which  so  nobly  de- 
fended Konigsberg  in  Silesia.  They  must  have 
punished  those  fellows  well!"  (The  next  report 
from  the  seat  of  war  was  that,  after  five  hours  com- 
bat this  advance  guard  of  Clam-Gallas  retreated  to 
Podol.  Later  I  knew  that  Frederick  was  in  this  en- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  133 

gagement,  and  that  the  same  night  the  barricaded 
Podol  had  been  attacked  by  General  Horn,  and 
the  battle  continued  by  bright  moonlight.'  "But 
better  news  than  that  from  the  north,"  continued 
my  father,  "  is  the  beginning  in  the  south.  At  Cus- 
tozza  a  victory  has  been  won — a  brilliant  one.  I 
told  you  Lombardy  would  be  ours  yet.  I  regard 
the  war  as  decided.  If  we  so  soon  finish  off  the 
Italians,  a  regular,  disciplined  army,  we  shall  not 
have  much  trouble  with  the  tailors'  apprentices. 
This  militia — it  is  pure  impudence,  and  of  a  piece 
with  everything  Prussian,  to  consider  itself  fit  to 
engage  regular  soldiers.  Fellows  from  the  shops, 
from  the  bench,  and  such  rubbish,  cannot  possibly 
stand  against  such  blood  and  iron  soldiers  as  ours. 
See  here  what  a  special  correspondent  of  the  Vi- 
enna Press  writes,  under  date  twenty-fourth  June. 
It  is  good  news:  " 

"  The  cattle  plague  in  its  most  serious  form  has  broken 
out  in  Prussian  Silesia." 

'"Cattle  plague,'  'serious!'  Is  this  your  good 
news?"  said  I,  shaking  my  head.  "Fine  things  we 
are  asked  to  rejoice  over  in  war  times.  It  is  lucky 
that  black  and  gold  turnpike  gates  stand  on  the 
frontier — perhaps  they  will  keep  the  plague  on  that 
side." 

But  my  father  paid  no  attention,  and  read  on 
with  increasing  pleasure: 

"  Among  the  Prussian  troops  fever  is  raging.  The  un- 
wholesome swamp  lands,  bad  subsistence,  and  miserable 
quarters  in  the  crowded  villages  of  the  surrounding 
country  could  not  but  produce  such  results.  The  Aus- 
trians  have  no  idea  of  the  character  of  the  subsistence  of 
the  Prussian  soldiers.  The  nobility  believe  they  can  ask 
any  sacrifice  of  the  common  people.  Three  ounces  only 
of  salt  pork  are  issued  to  each  man.  These  men  are  un- 
accustomed to  forced  marches,  or  to  any  other  hardships, 
and  find  such  short  rations  next  door  to  starvation." 

"  The  papers  are  full  of  stirring  news.  You 
ought  to  save  the  papers,  Martha." 

I  have  saved  them.     We  ought  always  to  do  that; 


134  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

then,  when  a  new  struggle  is  in  prospect,  we  should 
not  need  to  read  the  latest  news,  but  could  refer  to 
the  accounts  of  the  preceding  war.  We  could  thus 
judge  of  the  amount  of  truth  in  all  the  prophecies, 
army  orders,  and  reports.  It  is  instructive. 
From  the  seat  of  war  in  the  north: 

"  From  the  latest  reports  the  Prussian  army  has  moved 
its  head-quarters  to  Eastern  Silesia.  (Here  follows  in  the 
usual  tactician's  style  a  lengthy  account  of  the  evolutions 
and  position  of  the  enemy,  of  which  the  gentlemanly  cor- 
respondent evidently  has  a  much  clearer  conception  in  his 
mind's  eye  than  either  Mpltke  or  Roon.)  It  appears  to 
be  the  object  of  the  Prussians  to  prevent  the  march  of  our 
army  upon  Berlin,  which,  however,  in  view  of  the  prep- 
arations to  this  end  (which  our  special  correspondent 
knows  more  about  than  Benedek),  they  will  scarcely  suc- 
ceed in  doing.  With  the  fullest  confidence  the  public 
may  await  important  movements  on  the  part  of  the  north- 
ern army,  which  though  not  so  speedily  forthcoming  as 
perhaps  anticipated,  will  be  all  the  more  fraught  with  far- 
reaching  consequences. 

"  The  New  Frankfort  Journal  reports  an  in- 
teresting occurrence  which  took  place  at  Miinich  when 
the  Austrian  troops  of  Italian  nativity  marched  through. 
They  consisted  of  several  battalions  of  infantry  recruited 
in  Venice,  and  they  were  marched  from  the  railway 
station  to  a  neighboring  beer  garden  and  restaurant.  All 
were  convinced  of  the  enthusiasm  with  which  these  Vene- 
tians served  against  the  enemies  of  Austria.  (Perhaps 
everybody  realized  how  easily  drunken  soldiers  can  be 
made  to  shout  for  anything.)  At  Wiirzburg  these  troops 
found  the  railway  station  filled  with  an  Austrian  regi- 
ment of  infantry  on  their  way  to  the  seat  of  war;  these 
were  also  Venetians,  and  the  rejoicing  was  universal  (all 
being  equally  drunk)  over  the  opportunity  of  meeting  and 
punishing  these  dangerous  enemies  of  peace.  (It  is  always 
the  other  side  which  breaks  the  peace.  Those  who  were 
so  gratified  by  these  vivas  of  drunken  soldiers  should  re- 
member there  is  nothing  so  deceptive  as  such  accla- 
mations. A  thousand  roaring  voices  are  not  the  ex- 
pression of  a  thousand  minds,  but  simply  indicate  the 
imitative  instinct  of  mankind.)" 

Field  Marshal  Benedek  sent  out  from  Triibau,  in 
Bohemia,  three  bulletins  announcing  to  the  army 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  135 

of  the  north  the  victories  of  the  south.    Attached 
to  them  was  the  following  order  for  the  day. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  northern  army  I  have  sent  the 
following  to  the  commander  of  the  army  of  the  south: 
'  Field  Marshal  Benedek  and  the  entire  northern  army 
congratulate  the  glorious  commander  and  the  brave  army 
of  the  south  upon  their  great  victory  at  Custozza.  With  a 
magnificent  victory  the  campaign  has  been  opened  in  the 
south.  Glorious  Custozza  adorns  the  shield  of  honor  of 
the  imperial  army.'  Soldiers  of  the  army  of  the  north, 
with  shouts  you  will  receive  this  news,  which  will  inflame 
your  zeal  for  battle,  when  we  also  can  decorate  our  shield 
with  the  name  of  a  famous  victory,  and  report  to  the 
Emperor  a  no  less  notable  triumph,  for  which  your 
martial  enthusiasm  burns,  and  which  will  be  won  by  your 
bravery  and  self  sacrifice  with  the  shout:  Long  live  the 
Emperor.  BENEDEK." 

A  telegraphic  report  of  the  reply  was  received 
at  Trlibau: 

"  The  army  of  the  south  and  its  commander  send  heart- 
felt thanks  to  their  beloved  former  field  marshal  and  his 
brave  soldiers,  convinced  that  shortly  congratulations  for 
a  similar  victory  on  their  part  will  be  exchanged." 

"  Does  not  your  very  heart  laugh,  child,  when  you 
read  such  news  as  this?"  cried  my  father.  "Can 
you  not  rise  to  such  a  pitch  of  patriotic  enthusiasm 
as  to  forget  for  a  moment  your  private  affairs — 
that  your  Frederick,  Martha,  and  your  Conrad, 
Lilli,  are  exposed  to  danger,  danger  from  which 
they  will  probably  escape,  and  to  endure  which — a 
lot  they  share  with  the  noblest  sons  of  the  nation 
— is  both  fame  and  honor?  There  are  no  soldiers 
who  would  not  willingly  die  for  their  country." 

"  If  after  a  defeat  they  are  left  with  shattered 
limbs  upon  the  field,"  I  said,  "  and  are  there  neg- 
lected for  four  or  five  days  and  nights  to  suffer 
from  hunger,  thirst,  and  inconceivable  anguish, 
decaying  while  still  alive,  slowly  dying,  knowing 
all  the  time  that  through  their  death  their  country 
gains  nothing,  though  family  and  loved  ones  are 
brought  to  the  verge  of  despair;  I  should  like  to 


136  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

know  if  these  men  will   spend   their  time  crying 
that  they  die  willingly." 

"You  are  outrageous!  You  use  such  coarse 
language;  for  a  woman  it  is  not  decent." 

"Yes,  yes,  that  is  the  truth;  the  actual  circum- 
stance is  outrageous,  infamous,"  I  cried.  "  Only 
the  phrases  sanctioned  by  a  thousand-fold  repeti- 
tion are  respectable." 

Among  Frederick's  papers — many  days  later — I 
found  a  letter,  which  I  wrote  at  that  time  and  sent 
to  him  at  the  seat  of  war.  This  letter  shows  most 
clearly  the  sentiments  with  which  I  was  then  op- 
pressed. 

GRUMITZ,  28  June,  1866. 

DEAREST: 

I  do  not  live  .  .  .  Picture  to  yourself  that  in 
the  next  room  people  are  discussing  whether  you  shall  be 
executed  within  a  few  days  or  not,  while  I  outside  must 
abide  by  their  decision.  During  this  period  of  uncer- 
tainty I  breathe,  it  is  true,  but  can  I  call  that  living?  The 
next  room,  in  which  this  question  is  to  be  decided,  is  Bo- 
hemia. But  after  all,  my  love,  the  comparison  is  not  apt. 
For  if  the  question  were  as  to  my  own  life  or  death  the 
terror  would  not  be  so  great.  My  anxiety  concerns  a 
much  dearer  life  than  my  own, — and,  even  more  than 
your  death,  it  tortures  me  with  fears  of  your  possible 
mortal  agony.  Oh,  if  it  were  only  over !  If  our  victory 
would  only  follow  swiftly — not  because  of  the  victory, 
but  because  the  end  would  be  reached! 

Will  you  receive  these  lines?  And  where  and  when? 
Will  it  be  after  a  fierce  day  of  battle,  or  in  camp,  or  pos- 
sibly in  the  hospital? — in  any  event  it  will  be  grateful  to 
you  to  receive  news  from  your  Martha.  Even  if  I  cannot 
write  otherwise  than  sadly — how  can  anything  but  sad- 
ness be  felt  at  a  time  when  the  sun  is  obscured  by  the 
great,  black  funeral  pall  which  has  been  suspended  above 
our  country,  to  be  dropped  over  her  children!  Even 
then  these  lines  must  bring  you  pleasure,  for  you  love  me, 
Frederick — I  know  how  dearly — and  these  written  words 
rejoice  and  move  you  as  the  soft  stroke  of  my  hand. 

I  am  with  you,  Frederick,  you  must  know,  in  every 
thought,  in  every  breath  you  draw,  by  day  and  night. 
Here  at  home  I  live  and  move  and  speak  and  act  me- 
chanically; my  own  self — that  which  belongs  to  you — 
does  not  leave  you  an  instant. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  137 

My  boy  alone  reminds  me  that  the  world  contains  some 
other  being  which  is  not  yourself.  The  good  little  fel- 
low! If  you  only  knew  how  often  he  asks  after  you  and 
how  anxious  he  is  about  you.  We  two  talk  of  nothing 
else  than  of  "  Papa."  He  knows  very  well,  the  sympa- 
thetic child  !  that  this  is  the  one  thing  of  which  my  heart 
is  full,  and  small  as  he  is,  he  is  already,  in  his  fashion,  the 
friend  of  his  mother.  I  talk  to  him  as  if  he  were  grown 
and  he  shows  his  gratitude.  On  my  side,  I  am  grateful 
to  him  for  the  love  which  he  dedicates  to  you.  It  is 
rarely  that  children  love  their  stepfather — certainly  there 
has  never  been  anything  of  the  traditional  stepfather  in 
you.  You  could  not  be  more  tender,  more  gentle  with 
your  own  son,  my  dear,  faithful  lover.  Yes,  goodness, 
gentle,  great,  and  generous,  is  the  foundation  of  your 
character;  and  what  does  the  poet  say?  "As  the  heavens 
mould  themselves  into  one  great  sapphire  vault,  so  the 
whole  greatness  of  a  noble  human  being  is  embraced  in 
goodness."  In  other  words:  I  love  you,  Frederick! 
That  is  the  refrain  of  all  when  I  reflect  upon  your  char- 
acter. So  confidently,  so  securely  I  rest  in  you,  Fred- 
erick, when  I  am  with  you,  understand.  Now  that  you 
are  torn  from  me  I  have  no  rest  or  peace.  If  the  storm 
were  only  over,  or  if  it  had  reached  Berlin!  My  father  is 
convinced  that  this  will  certainly  be  the  result  of  the 
campaign,  and  according  to  all  that  we  hear  and  see,  we 
are  led  to  believe  it. 

"So  soon  as  with  God's  help  the  enemy  is  defeated," 
says  Benedek's  proclamation,  "we  will  follow  close  upon 
his  heels,  and  in  the  enemy's  country  we  will  rest  and 
compensate  ourselves,"  etc.  What  sort  of  compensation 
does  he  mean?  Nowadays  no  general  dares  say  aloud : 
"  Come,  you  may  plunder,  burn,  and  ravish,"  as  was  the 
custom  in  the  Middle  Ages,  in  order  to  incite  the  hordes. 
Now.  one  can  only  promise  at  the  most  a  slice  of  terri- 
torial sausage,  but  as  that  is  somewhat  uncertain,  they 
decorate  it  in  flowery  style  as  "those  compensations," 
etc.  You  can  understand  it  as  you  please.  The  principle 
of  compensation  from  the  resources  of  the  enemy's  coun- 
try still  lives  in  the  style  of  soldierly  ethics.  And  how 
could  you  compensate  yourself  in  the  enemy's  country, 
which  with  you  is  your  land  by  inheritance,  where  your 
friends  and  your  cousins  still  live?  Will  it  be  to  you  a 
compensation  to  level  with  the  ground  the  pretty  villa 
where  your  Aunt  Cornelia  lives?  "The  enemy's  country!" 
That  is  one  of  those  fossil  ideas  of  a  time  when  war  was 
unreservedly  a  robber's  raid,  and  when  the  enemy's 


138  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

country  was  simply  the  booty  to  entice  the  vassal  recruit. 

I  write  to  you  as  we  talk  in  those  lovely  hours  when 
you  are  at  my  side,  when  we  have  finished  one  of  those 
works  of  progress,  over  which  we  philosophize  upon  the 
contradictions  of  our  times,  and  when  we  so  tenderly,  so 
sympathetically  understand  each  other.  Around  me  now 
there  are  none  to  whom  I  can  speak  of  these  things. 
Doctor  Bresser  was  the  only  one  with  whom  I  could  ex- 
change sentiments  in  condemnation  of  war,  and  he  is  now 
gone,  drawn  into  the  service  to  heal  wounds,  not  make 
them.  What  a  contradiction  is  this  humanity  in  war!  It 
is  much  like  reason  and  faith.  One  or  the  other;  but 
humanity  and  war,  reason  and  dogma — they  do  not  go 
together.  An  outright,  burning  detestation  of  the  enemy, 
coupled  with  a  complete  contempt  for  human  life — that 
is  the  inspiring  soul  of  war,  just  as  the  unquestioning 
stifling  of  the  reason  is  the  fundamental  condition  of  faith. 
But  we  live  in  a  period  of  accommodation  where  old  in- 
stitutions and  new  ideas  are  equally  powerful.  People 
cannot  quite  break  with  the  old,  and  cannot  quite  com- 
prehend the  new,  and  so  they  try  to  mould  the  two 
together,  and  hence  results  this  inconsequent,  contra- 
dictory, deceitful,  half-hearted  confusion  under  which  the 
soul,  thirsting  for  truth,  justice,  and  consistency,  groans 
and  suffers. 

Ah,  see  what  I  have  written!  You  will  scarcely  be  in 
the  mood — as  in  our  quiet  hours  of  musing — to  listen  to 
such  generalizations.  You  are  surrounded  by  a  terrible 
reality  to  which  you  are  compelled  to  succumb.  How 
much  better  it  would  be  for  you,  if  you  could  accept  it 
with  the  simple  sentiment  of  the  old  times,  when  a  martial 
life  was  actually  the  soldier's  delight.  And  it  would  be 
better  if  I  could  write,  like  other  women,  letters  full  of 
prophecies  of  victory,  spurring  you  with  promises  of 
blessings.  The  girls  are  trained  to  patriotism,  so  that  at 
the  proper  moment  they  can  urge  men  to  die  for  their 
country,  as  the  noblest  death,  or  promise:  "  When  you 
return  crowned  with  victory,  we  will  reward  you  with  our 
love.  In  the  meantime  we  will  pray  for  you.  The  God 
of  Battles,  who  protects  our  armies,  will  hearken  unto 
our  prayers.  Day  and  night  our  petitions  will  mount  to 
Heaven  and  we  will  obtain  its  favor.  You  will  return 
crowned  with  fame  and  victory!  We  do  not  tremble,  for 
we  are  the  worthy  mates  of  brave  men.  No,  no! — the 
mothers  of  your  sons  dare  not  be  cowardly,  if  they  would 
bring  into  the  world  a  new  race  of  heroes;  and  we  must 


"GROUND  ARMS!'1  139 

give  up  our  dearest.     For  king  and  country  no  sacrifice 
is  too  great! " 

That  would  be  the  right  sort  of  a  letter  to  a  soldier, 
would  it  not?  but  not  the  letter  which  you  would  wish  to 
receive  from  your  wife,  from  the  partner  of  your  thoughts, 
who  shares  with  you  the  detestation  of  blind  and  anti- 
quated human  madness — oh!  a  detestation,  so  bitter,  so 
painful  that  I  cannot  express  it.  When  I  picture  to  my- 
self these  two  armies,  composed  in  the  main  of  reasonable, 
good,  and  gentle  human  beings,  who  dash  upon  each 
other  for  mutual  destruction,  devastating  the  unhappy 
country  and  like  chess  players  capturing  and  recapturing 
defenseless  villages;  when  I  think  upon  all  this,  I  feel 
like  crying  out:  "  Reflect  a  moment — stop  for  an  instant!" 
and  of  a  hundred  thousand  ninety  thousand,  as  individu- 
als, would  willingly  stop;  but  as  a  mass  they  rage  onward. 
But  enough  of  this.  You  had  rather  hear  the  gossip  and 
news  from  home.  To  begin:  we  are  all  well.  Father  is 
in  a  continual  ferment  over  the  present  complications. 
The  victory  of  Custozza  filled  him  with  most  radiant 
pride.  He  acts  as  if  he  had  won  it  himself.  In  addition, 
he  regards  the  event  as  so  brilliant  that  a  portion  of  its 
glory  he  shares  as  an  Austrian  and  as  a  general.  And 
Lori,  whose  husband,  as  you  know,  is  with  the  army  of  the 
south,  has  written  me  a  letter  of  triumph  over  Custozza. 
Frederick,  do  you  remember  how  jealous  I  was  of  the 
good  Lori  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  how  from  this 
little  circumstance  has  grown  a  still  stronger  love  and 
confidence?  Oh,  if  you  had  ever  deceived  me  or  even 
treated  me  a  little  shabbily,  I  could  bear  this  separation 
more  easily;  but  to  know  that  such  a  husband  is  in  the 
range  of  bullets!  But  to  go  on  with  the  news:  Lori  has 
informed  me  that  she  with  her  little  Beatrice  will  spend 
the  rest  of  her  straw  widowhood  in  Grumitz.  I  cannot 
decline  the  visit;  but  just  now  her  presence  will  be  a 
burden  to  me.  I  should  prefer  to  be  alone,  alone  with 
my  longing  for  you,  which  no  other  being  can  realize. 
Next  week  Otto  begins  his  vacation.  He  laments  in 
every  letter  that  the  war  broke  out  before  instead  of  after 
his  officer's  commission.  He  hopes  to  God  that  peace 
will  not  "  break  out "  before  his  release  from  the  academy. 
The  words,  "break  out,"  he  did  not  actually  use,  but  it 
expresses  his  state  of  mind,  for  he  regards  peace  as  a 
genuine  calamity.  Well,  certainly,  that  is  the  way  they 
are  all  trained.  So  long  as  wars  exist,  war-loving  soldiers 
must  be  found,  and  so  long  as  war-loving  soldiers  exist- 
so  long  will  wars  endure.  Is  that  to  be  the  eternal,  hope- 


140  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

less  circle?  No,  thank  God!  For  human  love,  spite  of 
all  this  drilling  of  the  schools,  grows  apace.  We  found 
in  Buckle,  you  remember,  the  evidence  of  this  develop- 
ment. But  I  do  not  need  a  printed  book  as  proof.  I 
only  need  to  look  into  your  noble,  human  heart,  Fred- 
erick, to  convince  me  of  this  truth. 

But  to  return:  from  our  relatives  in  Bohemia,  we  re- 
ceive on  all  sides  the  most  piteous  letters.  The  march 
of  an  army  through  a  country — even  when  on  the  road  to 
victory — desolates  and  devastates  the  land;  how  will  it 
be  when  the  enemy  penetrates  the  region,  when  the 
battle  ground  is  chosen  in  their  neighborhood  and  their 
castles  and  fields  are  at  stake.  Everything  is  prepared 
for  flight,  their  goods  are  packed,  their  valuables  are 
buried.  Good-by  to  the  pleasant  visits  to  Bohemian 
watering  places;  good-by  to  brilliant  autumn  hunting 
parties;  and  most  of  all,  good-by  to  the  accustomed  reve- 
nues from  harvest  and  manufactures.  The  crops  are 
destroyed,  the  factories  which  have  not  been  burned 
down  have  been  robbed  of  their  workmen.  "It  is  a 
genuine  misfortune,"  they  write,  "that  we  live  in  the 
border  lands,  and  a  second  misfortune  that  Benedek  has 
not  more  promptly  adopted  the  offensive  and  carried  the 
war  into  Prussia."  Perhaps  one  might  consider  it  a  mis- 
fortune that  the  whole  political  squabble  could  not  be 
decided  by  a  court  of  justice,  instead  of  by  murderous 
onslaughts  either  upon  Bohemian  or  Silesian  soil.  Ac- 
cording to  trustworthy  reports  of  travelers,  human  beings, 
green  fields,  and  factories  are  also  to  be  found  in  Silesia. 
But  no  one  thinks  of  such  a  thing  as  that. 

My  little  Rudolph  sits  at  my  feet  while  I  write.  He 
sends  his  embraces  and  his  love  to  our  little  Puxl.  We 
both  miss  the  funny  little  creature,  but  on  the  other  hand 
he  would  have  missed  his  master,  and  he  is  a  pleasure  to 
you.  So  we  both  send  our  regards  to  Puxl.  I  shake 
his  honorable  paw  and  Rudi  kisses  his  good,  black  nose. 

And  now,  for  to-day,  good-by,  my  all ! 

"  It  is  extraordinary!  Defeat  after  defeat!  First 
the  capture  by  moonlight  of  the  village  of  Podol, 
where  the  brigade  of  Clam-Gallas  had  thrown  up 
breastworks;  then  the  taking  of  Gitchin.  The 
needle  gun,  the  damned  needle  gun,  mowed  down 
our  men  by  windrows.  The  enemy's  two  great 
army  corps,  under  the  Crown  Prince  and  Prince 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  141 

Frederick  Charles,  have  united  and  are  marching 
upon  Mtinchengratz." 

Such  was  the  terrible  report  brought  by  my 
father,  though  he  would  not  acknowledge  the  possi- 
bility of  further  disaster. 

"They  ought  to  enter  Bohemia — all  together — and 
there  meet  destruction  to  the  last  man.  A  retreat 
would  not  be  possible  for  them,  we  would  surround 
them  and  the  outraged  population  would  turn  upon 
them.  It  is  not  very  easy  to  operate  in  the  ene- 
my's country,  for  you  have  not  only  the  army,  but 
the  people,  against  you.  At  Trautenau  the  people 
poured  boiling  water  and  oil  from  the  windows 
upon  the  Prussians." 

I  uttered  a  cry  of  horror  and  disgust. 

"  What  would  you  have? "  said  my  father  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  "  It  is  certainly  horrible,  but  it 
is  war." 

"  Then  do  not  dare  assert  that  war  ennobles  a 
people!  Acknowledge  that  it  debases,  brutalizes,  is 
devilish! " 

"Justifiable  self-defense  and  a  fair  revenge,  Mar- 
tha. Do  you  think  their  needle  guns  are  pleasant 
weapons  against  our  side?  Our  brave  fellows  are 
mowed  down  by  those  murderous  weapons  like 
slaughtered  beeves.  But  we  are  too  well  disci- 
plined, too  numerous,  not  to  beat  the  '  tailors'  ap- 
prentices.' In  the  beginning  a  few  mistakes  were 
made,  that  I  will  acknowledge.  Benedek  ought  to 
have  crossed  the  Prussian  frontier  at  once.  I  am 
a  little  doubtful  whether  our  choice  of  a  field  mar- 
shal was  wise.  It  might  have  been  better  to  have 
sent  the  Archduke  Albrecht  north  and  Benedek  to 
the  army  of  the  south.  But  I  will  not  find  fault 
so  soon — the  decisive  battle  is  yet  to  come.  We 
are  now  concentrating  our  forces  at  Koniggratz; 
there — over  a  hundred  thousand  strong — we  will 
await  the  enemy;  there  we  will  win  our  northern 
Custozza." 

There  Frederick  would  also  be  engaged.  His 
last  letter,  which  had  arrived  this  very  morning 


142  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

(I  had  heard  regularly  from  him),  reported:    "We 
are  on  the  march  to  Koniggratz." 

I  have  in  my  possession  all  of  these  notes,  writ- 
ten on  horseback,  in  his  tent,  with  pencil,  on  sheets 
torn  from  a  note-book.  There  is  no  carefully  writ- 
ten army  report  style  about  them;  none  of  the  ef- 
fusive strategic  wisdom  of  the  special  correspond- 
ent; no  rhetorical  display  of  battlefield  landscape; 
but  such  as  they  are  I  give  them: 

"  It  is  a  warm,  lovely  summer  night — the  broad,  indif- 
ferent heavens  are  full  of  glittering  stars.  The  men  lie 
upon  the  ground,  exhausted  by  the  long  forced  march.  A 
few  tents  have  been  pitched  for  us  staff  officers.  In  mine 
there  are  three  camp  beds.  My  two  comrades  are  asleep, 
while  I  sit  at  a  table  with  a  candle  and  a  lot  of  empty 
glasses.  By  the  feeble,  flickering  light  I  am  writing  to 
you,  my  beloved  wife. 

"  I  have  laid  Puxl  on  my  bed.  How  tired  the  poor  ras- 
cal is!  I  almost  regret  that  I  brought  him;  he,  also,  as 
some  of  our  side  are  repeatedly  saying  of  the  Prussians, 
is  not  accustomed  to  the  fatigues  and  privations  of  a  cam- 
paign. He  is  sleeping  and  snoring,  possibly  dreaming  of 
his  friend  and  patron,  Rudolph,  Count  Dotzky.  And  I 
am  dreaming  of  you,  Martha.  True,  I  am  awake;  but  as 
deceptively  as  in  a  dream  I  see  your  figure  in  a  dusky 
corner  of  the  tent,  sitting  on  a  camp  stool.  What  a  long- 
ing possesses  me  to  go  over  there  and  lay  my  head  in 
your  lap.  But  I  dare  not  move  else  the  image  will  dis- 
appear." 

"  I  stepped  out  a  moment.  The  stars  shine  with  greater 
apathy  than  ever.  Here  and  there  shadowy  forms  flit 
over  the  ground;  they  are  the  stragglers,  who,  guided  by 
the  camp  fires,  have  made  their  way  to  us.  But  not  all — 
many  lie  far  behind  in  ditches  and  cornfields.  The  heat 
was  fearful  during  this  march.  The  sun  was  as  brass  and 
burned  into  the  very  brain,  the  knapsacks  were  heavy, 
and  the  guns  rested  on  sorely  bruised  shoulders;  yet  no 
one  complained.  Many  have  fallen  and  could  not  rise 
again.  Some  died  instantly  from  sunstroke.  Their 
bodies  were  loaded  upon  an  ambulance. 

"  This  night  of  June,  so  clear  and  warm,  is  enchanting. 
We  do  not  hear  the  nightingales  nor  does  the  odor  of 
roses  and  jasmines  reach  us.  All  sweet  sounds  are  over- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  143 

powered  by  the  stamping  and  neighing  of  horses,  the 
voices  of  restless  men,  and  the  even  tramp  of  the  guard. 
But  more  is  to  come;  we  do  not  yet  hear  the  croak  of  the 
raven  nor  smell  powder,  blood,  and  corruption.  All  this 
hereafter,  ad  majorem  patriae glortam.  Astonishing  how 
blind  mankind  are!  They  will  break  out  in  curses  upon 
the  fearful  fanaticism  which  lit  martyr  fires  'to  the 
greater  honor  of  God';  and  yet  for  the  corpse-strewn 
battlefields  of  the  present  they  have  nothing  but  admi- 
ration. The  torture  chambers  of  the  dark  Middle  Ages 
fill  them  with  abhorrence,  but  they  are  proud  of  their 
arsenals. 

"  From  the  esthetic  standpoint  the  most  desirable  sit- 
uation to  obtain  a  view  of  the  battlefield  is  to  be  upon 
a  hill  surrounded  by  a  group  of  generals  and  distin- 
guished officers.  You  hold  a  field-glass  to  the  eye.  The 
painters  of  battle  scenes  and  the  illustrated  papers,  recog- 
nize the  due  value  of  the  position.  They  frequently  pic- 
ture another  view  of  a  field  marshal  on  a  rise  of  ground, 
dictating  orders  to  his  staff,  or  the  same  figure  on  a  white, 
high-stepping  horse,  with  one  arm  stretched  toward  a 
smoke  covered  part  of  the  plain,  and  the  head  turned  as 
if  calling  to  those  behind:  '  Follow  me,  my  children.' 

"  From  these  commanding  situations  we  really  do  get 
an  idea  of  the  poetry  of  war.  The  picture  is  magnificent 
and  at  a  sufficient  distance  to  give  all  the  scenic  effect, 
without  its  horrors  and  disgusting  realities:  no  flowing 
blood,  no  death  rattle,  nothing  but  superb  effects  of  line 
and  color.  On  the  roads,  perhaps,  long  serpentine  march- 
ing columns,  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  upon  the  plain 
regiment  after  regiment  of  infantry,  detachments  of 
cavalry,  and  batteries;  then  the  ammunition  train,  farm 
wagons  pressed  into  service,  pack  horses,  and,  behind  all, 
the  baggage. 

"  Still  more  forcible  is  the  picture,  when  on  the  plain 
below  we  watch  the  onslaught  and  encounter  of  two 
hostile  forces.  The  glitter  of  arms,  the  floating  banners, 
the  uniforms  of  all  sorts,  excited,  prancing  horses,  all  in 
one  mad  whirl  of  action;  over  these  clouds  of  smoke,  so 
thick  in  many  places  that  it  veils  all  within  it;  at  times  it 
rises  and  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  struggling,  fighting 
masses.  Then  as  accompaniment,  echoing  through  the 
hills,  the  roar  of  artillery  whose  every  shot  means  death 
— death.  Yes,  this  is  something  to  inspire  a  battle  song. 
It  is  something  also  for  the  writer  of  the  history  of  his 


144  "GROUND  A  RMS  I" 

times,  which  must  be  published  after  the  campaign  is 
over,  to  have  been  upon  this  hilly  outlook.  With  some 
show  of  truth  he  can  relate  how  Division  X  attacked  the 
enemy,  drove  them  back,  and  reached  the  critical  posi- 
tion; how  strong  re-enforcements  marched  up  and  were 
seen  on  the  left  flank,  etc.,  etc.  But  he  who  has  taken 
active  part  on  the  field  and  has  had  no  such  point  of 
observation  can  have  no  idea  of  the  progress  of  a  battle. 
He  sees,  thinks,  and  feels  only  what  is  nearest  him;  what 
he  afterwards  reports  is  mainly  conjecture  or  the  result 
of  later  reading. 

"  The  village  is  ours — no,  the  enemy  has  it — it  is  again 
ours — and  again  the  enemy  has  it,  but  a  village  no  longer 
exists;  nothing  but  a  heap  of  flames  and  ashes.  The 
inhabitants  (was  it  not  really  their  village?)  had,  fortu- 
nately, early  abandoned  it;  for  a  skirmish  in  inhabited 
places  is  horrible;  shells  and  balls  strike  all  alike,  women 
and  children.  One  family  had  remained  behind,  an  old 
couple  and  a  married  daughter  in  childbed.  Her  hus- 
band served  in  my  regiment.  He  said  to  me  as  we 
approached  the  village.  'Over  there,  Lieutenant-Colonel, 
in  the  house  with  the  red  roof,  my  wife  lives  with  her  old 
father  and  mother.  They  could  not  get  away.  For 
God's  sake  order  me  to  go  there.'  Poor  devil!  he  arrived 
in  time  to  see  his  wife  and  child  killed  by  a  shell  and  the 
walls  falling  about  the  old  people;  he  never  saw  them 
again.  I  once  saw  an  attack  upon  a  village  where  a 
breastwork  had  been  made  of  the  dead  bodies  of  the 
fallen — not  all  dead — I  saw  one  move  his  arm  from  out 
the  hideous  pile. 

"Living  still!  That  is  the  most  awful,  too  frequent 
condition  of  many  hopelessly  wounded.  Is  there  no 
angel  of  compassion  to  hover  over  battlefields  and  touch 
with  the  tender  hand  of  death  all  these  poor  wretches. 

"To-day  we  had  a  little  cavalry  engagement  in  the 
open  field.  A  Prussian  regiment  of  dragoons  came 
trotting  up  and  deployed  into  line;  then,  with  horses  well 
in  hand  and  sabers  above  their  heads,  they  rode  on  to  us 
at  a  sharp  gallop.  We  did  not  wait  for  the  attack  but 
sprang  to  meet  them.  Not  a  shot  was  exchanged.  A 
few  steps  from  each  other  both  ranks  broke  out  into  a 
thundering  cheer  (maddened  by  sound!  that  the  Indians 
and  Zulus  understand  better  than  we),  and  we  sprang 
upon  one  another,  horse  to  horse,  knee  to  knee,  sabers 
swinging  in  the  air  and  crashing  down  upon  the  heads. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  145 

We  were  soon  so  mixed  up  that  weapons  could  not  be 
used;  pressed  breast  to  breast  the  horses  became  mad 
with  fright  and  pranced  and  reared,  striking  out  with 
their  hoofs.  Once  I  fell  upon  the  ground  and  saw — what 
is  not  a  pleasant  thing — struggling  and  striking  hoofs 
within  an  inch  of  my  head. 

"We  are  again  upon  the  march,  skirmishing  on  the 
way.  I  have  had  a  great  grief.  It  pursues  me  like  a 
tragic  picture.  Amidst  the  many  scenes  of  misery  sur- 
rounding me,  it  ought  not  to  cause  me  such  keen  regret. 
But  I  cannot  help  it;  it  touches  me  nearly,  and  I  can- 
not shake  it  off.  Puxl — our  poor,  lively,  warm-hearted 
dog — I  ought  to  have  left  him  at  home  with  his  little  mas- 
ter Rudolph!  He  ran  after  us,  as  usual.  Suddenly  he 
uttered  a  mournful  howl — a  grenade  had  shattered  his 
front  legs.  He  could  no  longer  follow  us  and  I  was 
obliged  to  leave  him,  living  still.  Twenty-four,  forty- 
eight,  hours  may  pass  before  he  dies.  He  whined  after 
his  master:  '  Dear,  good  master,  do  not  leave  your  poor 
Puxl  and  break  his  heart!'  What  torments  me  most  is 
that  the  poor  creature  cannot  know  my  regrets — that  I 
heard  his  cry  for  help  and  yet  so  cruelly  passed  him  by. 
He  does  not  know  that  a  marching  regiment,  from  whose 
ranks  comrades  fall  and  are  abandoned,  cannot  halt  for  a 
poor,  wounded  dog.  Of  my  higher  duty  he  knows  noth- 
ing, and  the  poor,  faithful  heart  mourns  over  my  lack  of 
sympathy. 

"The  knowledge  that  a  man  in  the  midst  of  such  im- 
portant events  and  such  gigantic  misfortunes,  which  fill 
the  present,  can  allow  such  small  affairs  to  trouble  him, 
would  cause  many  to  shrug  their  shoulders — but  not  you, 
Martha,  not  you.  I  know  you  will  shed  a  tear  for  our 
poor  Puxl." 

"  What  is  the  matter  there  ?  Has  a  spy  been  caught? 
One?  Seventeen.  There  they  come  in  four  rows,  four  in 
a  row,  marching  with  bowed  heads,  surrounded  by  a  guard. 
Behind  them,  in  a  wagon,  a  corpse  is  lying,  and  bound  to 
the  corpse,  sitting  on  it,  the  son  of  the  dead  man,  a  twelve- 
year-old  boy — also  to  be  shot.  I  cannot  witness  the  execu- 
tion. I  turn  away  but  hear  the  firing.  Behind  the  wall 
a  smoke  rises,  all  are  gone.  The  boy  with  them ! 

"At  last  we  find  comfortable  quarters  for  the  night  in 
a  little  town.  (A  miserable  hole!)  Supplies,  which  the 


146  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

inhabitants  have  taken  months  to  hoard,  we  have  coolly 
taken  on  a  requisition.  '  Requisition! '  it  is  always  fine  to 
be  able  to  give  a  right,  melodious,  diplomatically  sanc- 
tioned name  to  a  thing. 

"  I  was  very  glad,  however,  that  good  quarters  and  a 
comfortable  meal  were  to  be  had.  And — I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you. 

"  I  was  ready  for  bed,  when  my  orderly  announced  that 
a  man  of  our  regiment  was  without  and  had  something 
for  me.  He  came  in.  When  he  left  I  had  rewarded  him 
richly  and  shaken  both  hands,  and  promised  him  to  care 
for  his  wife  and  child,  should  anything  befall  him,  for 
what  the  good  fellow  brought  me  gave  me  great  delight 
and  relieved  me  from  the  pain  I  had  suffered  for  thirty- 
six  hours — it  was  our  little  Puxl.  He  was  badly  mangled 
but  still  living,  and  so  happy  to  see  his  master,  who  in 
turn  so  rejoiced  over  him  that  he  could  no  longer  feel 
that  he  had  been  willingly  abandoned.  Yes,  that  was  a 
happy  meeting!  but  first  a  drink  of  water.  How  good  it 
was!  he  stopped  now  and  then  to  bark  his  joy.  After- 
wards I  bound  up  his  stumps  of  legs,  gave  him  a  supper 
of  meat  and  cheese,  and  carefully  put  him  to  bed.  We 
both  slept  well.  In  the  morning,  when  I  awoke,  he  licked 
my  hand,  then  stretched  out  his  legs,  breathed  heavily 
and  ceased  to  be.  Poor  Puxl,  it  was  better  so! " 

"  What  have  I  seen  to-day?  If  I  shut  my  eyes  it  all 
comes  before  me  with  frightful  clearness.  Nothing  but 
scenes  of  horror  and  agony  !  Why  do  others  bring  back 
from  war  such  fresh,  joyful  experiences  ?  They  do  not 
attempt,  in  their  accounts,  to  stick  to  truth  and  nature, 
but  paint  the  scenes,  story-book  fashion,  as  is  deemed 
heroic — the  more  horrible,  the  more  indifferently;  the 
more  shocking,  the  more  dispassionately.  Of  disapproba- 
tion, indignation,  rebellion,  not  a  word.  Possibly  they 
heave  a  few  sentimental  sighs  of  sympathy.  But  up  with 
the  head  again  — '  Lift  up  your  hearts  to  God  and  your 
hand  against  the  enemy.'  Hurrah! 

"  Here  are  two  of  the  scenes  imprinted  on  my  memory. 

"  There  were  steep,  stony  heights  in  the  foreground, 
with  jagers  climbing  up  them  like  cats.  The  order  was 
to  take  the  position.  From  above  the  enemy  kept  up  a 
fierce  fire.  What  I  saw  were  the  figures  of  the  struggling 
men  leading  the  attack.  One  was  struck  by  the  shot  of 
those  above.  He  threw  up  his  arms,  his  gun  fell,  and 
head  backwards  he  rolled  over  and  over  down  the  cliff, 
breaking  bones  and  crashing  to  the  bottom. 


"GROUND   ARMS!"  147 

"  Or  this  other  scene  :  A  rider  a  short  distance  from 
me  was  struck  by  a  shell.  His  horse  sprang  to  one  side, 
touched  the  flank  of  mine,  and  shot  forward.  The  rider 
still  sat  in  the  saddle,  though  the  shell  had  torn  away  the 
lower  part  of  the  body ;  an  instant  later  he  fell,  and  with 
foot  hanging  in  the  stirrup  was  dragged  by  his  horse 
along  the  stony  ground. 

"  Upon  a  steep  and  overflowed  roadway  stood  a  section 
of  artillery  with  wheels  sunk  deep  in  the  mire.  Only 
by  most  extreme  efforts,  dripping  with  sweat  and  urged 
by  cruel  blows  which  were  rained  upon  them,  could  the 
horses  drag  the  guns  through;  one,  overcome  with  fatigue, 
dropped  in  its  tracks.  Blows  were  of  no  service;  it  could 
not  move.  Does  not  the  man,  whose  blows  are  falling 
upon  the  head  of  the  poor  beast,  see  this?  If  the  rough 
rascal  were  the  driver  of  a  wagon  loaded  with  stone  upon 
the  highway,  any  policeman — or  I  myself — would  have 
arrested  him.  But  this  cannoneer,  who  was  responsible 
for  his  gun,  only  fulfilled  the  duty  of  his  position.  This 
the  horse  could  not  know;  the  tormented,  willing,  faith- 
ful creature,  who  made  the  most  desperate  exertions  to 
do  his  duty — what  must  it  think  of  such  cruelty  and  such 
misunderstanding  of  its  efforts — think,  as  animals  think, 
not  with  words  and  ideas,  but  with  sensations — sensations 
the  more  powerful  because  of  their  impossibility  of  ex- 
pression? Only  one  audible  sign  can  it  give:  a  shriek  of 
agony.  And  it  did  shriek  as  it  fell — the  poor  creature!— 
a  cry  so  long-drawn  and  agonizing  that  it  sounded  in  my 
ears  for  hours  after,  and  pursued  me  in  dreams.  It  was 
a  frightful  dream.  It  seemed  to  me — how  can  I  tell  it? 
dreams  are  so  irrational  that  they  are  difficult  to  ren- 
der into  reasonable  speech — it  seemed  as  if  I  heard  the 
shrieks  not  of  one  but  one  hundred  thousand  artillery 
horses,  for  in  the  dream  I  rapidly  calculated  the  numbers 
perishing  on  the  field.  '  Mankind,  which  causes  this 
frightful  danger  to  life,  knows  the  why  and  wherefore;  but 
we  unhappy  creatures  can  see  no  cause  for  all  this  suffer- 
ing and  misery.  Mankind  marches  upon  the  enemy,  but 
we  are  surrounded  by  enemies — our  own  masters,  whom 
we  love  and  serve,  to  whom  our  best  powers  are  offered, 
hew  us  down  and  let  us  lie  helpless  in  our  agony.  And 
what  anguish  we  endure;  terror  so  great  that  sweat 
drenches  our  bodies;  thirst — for  we,  too,  have  fever — oh, 
this  thirst — this  thirst  suffered  by  us  miserable,  abused 
one  hundred  thousand  horses!'  Here  I  awoke  and  grasped 
for  my  water  flask — I  was  parched  with  fever. 


148  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"There  was  a  running  fight  going  on  in  the  streets  of  a 
town.  To  the  shouts  of  the  combatants  were  added  the 
crash  of  falling  timbers,  the  tumbling  of  walls.  Fighting 
along  the  narrow  streets,  we  reached  the  open  market 
square.  In  the  middle  stood  a  stone  image  of  the  Ma- 
donna. The  mother  of  God  held  her  child  on  one  arm, 
the  other  she  stretched  out  in  blessing.  Here  the  struggle 
was  demoniac,  man  to  man.  A  Prussian  dragoon,  strong 
as  Goliath,  seized  one  of  our  officers  (a  smooth,  elegant 
lieutenant,  the  darling  of  the  ladies),  dragged  him  from 
the  saddle,  and  beat  his  brains  out  at  the  foot  of  the 
statue  of  the  Madonna,  who  looked  on  indifferently.  An- 
other, also  a  giant  in  stature,  seized  my  neighbor  and  bent 
him  backward  until  I  heard  the  backbone  crack,  and  then 
threw  him  under  the  outstretched  hand  of  blessing." 

"  From  the  hills  the  staff  officers  had  again  to-day  a 
diversified  view  of  the  spectacle  of  battle.  For  instance, 
there  was  the  falling  of  a  bridge  while  a  train  of  wagons 
was  crossing  it.  Were  the  wagons  filled  with  wounded 
men?  I  do  not  know,  I  could  not  see,  I  only  saw  that 
horses,  wagons  and  human  beings  sunk  and  disappeared 
in  the  deep  and  rapid  stream.  The  circumstance  was 
regarded  as  rather  lucky,  for  the  wagons  belonged  to  '  the 
Blacks.'  I  always  mentally  call  our  side  the  white,  the 
other  the  black  party.  The  bridge  had  not  fallen  acci- 
dentally. The  white  party,  knowing  that  the  enemy 
would  pass  over  it,  had  sawed  the  timber  supports — so 
that  it  was  a  successful  strategy. 

"A  second  glance  which  one  had  from  the  same  eminence 
disclosed  a  misfortune  for  the  Whites':  Khevenhiiller's 
regiment  was  inveigled  into  a  swamp,  where  it  sunk  and 
was  almost  entirely  destroyed  by  the  shells  of  the  enemy. 
They  sunk  in  the  mire,  mouth,  nose  and  eyes  filled  with 
the  slime;  they  could  not  utter  a  sound.  Of  course  it 
was  a  tactical  mistake,  but  '  to  err  is  human,'  and  the  loss 
of  a  few  peasants  more  or  less  is  not  worth  consideration. 
The  slime  remains  in  the  eyes  and  mouths  of  the  fallen; 
but  that  is  of  no  special  consequence,  and  the  mistake  of 
the  tactician  can  be  made  good  by  some  lucky  later  com- 
bination, for  which  the  leader  will  receive  a  few  fine 
orders  and  decorations.  That  lately,  in  a  night  attack, 
our  Eighteenth  jager  battalion  fired  for  several  hours 
upon  another  of  our  regiments,  only  discovering  the 
mistake  when  day  broke;  and  that  a  portion  of  the  regi- 
ment of  Gyulai  was  led  into  a  pond:  all  these  are  small 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  149 

affairs  which  in  the  heat  of  conflict  can  happen  to  the 
best  regulated  commands." 

"  It  is  decided;  when  I  return  from  this  campaign  I 
shall  leave  the  army.  Without  any  other  consideration, 
when  a  man  has  learned  to  abhor  a  thing  so  thoroughly 
as  I  now  detest  war,  it  is  a  living  lie  to  remain  in  the 
service.  I  have  always,  as  you  know,  gone  into  the  field 
with  repugnance,  but  this  detestation  is  so  increased,  my 
judgment  so  sharpened,  that  all  grounds  formerly  held 
by  me  as  reasons  for  remaining  in  my  profession  are  now 
abandoned.  The  views  of  war  instilled  into  me  during 
my  youth  have  not  outlived  the  horrors  of  the  reality. 
I  do  not  know  how  much  I  owe  to  our  mutual  study  of 
the  subject  for  this  new  conception,  which  is  shared  by 
the  noblest  spirits  of  the  time.  However  it  may  be,  my 
determination  is  unalterable  at  the  end  of  the  campaign 
to  cease  to  do  homage  to  the  God  of  War.  It  is  a  change 
brought  about  in  somewhat  the  same  way  that  many 
people  experience  a  gradual  change  of  faith.  At  first 
they  are  a  little  doubtful  and  indifferent,  but  they  attend 
divine  services  with  a  certain  reverence.  When,  however, 
they  get  beyond  the  influence  of  mysticism,  when  to  them 
the  ceremonies  which  they  attend  become  absurdest 
folly,  they  will  no  longer  kneel  with  the  other  deluded 
beings,  will  no  longer  deceive  themselves  and  the  world, 
and  will  cease  to  enter  the  no  longer  reverenced  temple. 

"This  is  my  experience  in  the  service  of  Mars.  The 
mysterious,  supernatural  influence  which  this  god  has 
exercised  over  mankind,  and  which  in  my  earlier  days 
darkened  my  judgment,  has  now  entirely  ceased.  The 
liturgy  of  army  proclamations,  and  the  ritualistic,  heroic 
phrases  have  no  longer  for  me  the  air  of  an  inspired  text; 
the  powerful  organ  tone  of  the  cannon,  the  consecrated 
smoke  of  powder  no  longer  entrances  me.  Without  re- 
spect or  faith  I  now  stand  by,  viewing  the  frightful  results 
of  this  aspect  of  civilization,  but  can  see  nothing  save  the 
anguish  of  the  sacrifice,  hear  nothing  save  the  melan- 
choly cry  of  death.  This  is  the  reason  why  these  sheets 
which  I  fill  with  my  impressions  of  war  convey  but  one 
idea  of  heart-breaking  pain." 

The  Battle  of  Koniggratz  had  been  fought. 
Again  it  was  a  defeat.  This  time  it  seemed  a  de- 
cisive one.  No  letter,  no  telegraphic  despatch  came 


150  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

from  Frederick.  Was  he  wounded — dead?  Con- 
rad reported  his  safety  to  Lilli. 

The  list  of  fatalities  had  not  yet  arrived;  it  was 
said  that  the  loss  in  killed  and  wounded  would 
reach  forty  thousand.  On  the  third  day  there  was 
still  no  sign.  I  wept  and  wept,  hours  at  a  time. 
Because  my  anxiety  was  not  yet  hopeless  certainty 
I  could  weep;  if  I  knew  the  worst  I  could  shed  no 
more  tears.  My  father  was  profoundly  depressed, 
and  Otto,  my  brother,  full  of  revenge.  A  volunteer 
corps  was  to  be  recruited  in  Vienna,  and  he  talked 
of  joining  it. 

Benedek  was  to  be  removed,  it  was  rumored,  and 
the  victorious  Archduke  Albrecht  ordered  to  the 
command  in  the  north. 

After  a  few  days  a  letter  arrived  from  Doctor 
Bresser.  He  was  serving  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  battlefield,  and  he  wrote  that  the  misery  was 
infinite,  defying  all  powers  of  description.  He  had 
joined  a  Saxon  surgeon,  Doctor  Brauer,  who  had 
been  sent  by  his  government  to  report  the  situation. 
Two  days  later  a  Saxon  lady  was  expected,  Frau 
Simon,  who  had  been  active,  since  the  war,  in  the 
Dresden  hospitals,  and  who  had  offered  to  visit  the 
Bohemian  battlefields  and  give  such  aid  as  lay  in 
her  power.  The  surgeons  were  to  meet  her  upon 
a  certain  date  at  Koniginhof,  the  last  station 
touched  by  the  railroad  nearest  Koniggratz.  Bres- 
ser begged  us  to  send  bandages,  and  anything  else 
that  would  be  useful,  to  this  station,  where  he 
would  receive  them.  I  at  once  determined  to  take 
the  box  myself,  though  I  did  not  dare  to  inform 
my  family  of  my  intention. 

I  announced  that  I  would  prepare  the  box,  and 
without  difficulty  left  Grumitz.  From  Vienna  I 
determined  to  telegraph  to  my  father  that  I  was  on 
my  way  to  the  battlefield.  True,  I  had  doubts  as 
to  my  capacity  for  usefulness,  and  my  inexperience 
troubled  me;  in  addition,  my  profound  disgust  for 
wounds,  blood,  and  death  hampered  me.  But  I 
was  oppressed  by  a  continual  presentiment  that 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  151 

Frederick  was  in  danger,  and  heard  in  imagination 
his  piteous  appeals  for  help;  from  his  bed  of  pain 
he  seemed  to  stretch  out  his  hands  to  me,  and  "  I 
come,  I  come,"  was  the  only  thought  of  which  I 
was  capable. 

In  a  few  hours  I  was  on  the  way.  I  found  Vienna 
in  the  wildest  excitement,  and  drove  to  the  Northern 
Station  under  continual  stress  of  fear.  Around  and 
within  the  station  were  crowds  of  wounded  and 
dying  men,  who  were  hurried  to  hospitals  as  fast  as 
possible  on  their  arrival.  The  most  intense  life — 
or  should  I  not  say  death? — raged  about  us.  The 
corridors,  the  waiting-rooms,  the  ante-rooms,  were 
filled  with  wounded  in  the  agonies  of  death.  Swarms 
of  citizens  brought  presents  for  the  suffering,  and 
anxiously  searched  for  their  own  relatives,  while 
nurses,  the  sanitary  police,  Sisters  of  Charity,  sur- 
geons— formed  a  mass  of  eager,  surging  humanity. 
In  vain  the  officials  endeavored  to  drive  back  the 
crowd. 

"  What  do  you  want?  Make  way  there!  The  dis- 
tribution of  food  and  liquors  is  forbidden.  Hand 
everything  over  to  the  committee — they  will  receive 
your  presents." 

"  No,  no,"  I  replied,  "  I  want  to  take  the  train;  at 
what  hour  can  I  go?" 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  got  any  information 
as  to  departing  trains.  Passenger  trains  were  no 

longer  going  out.  I  caught  sight  of  Baron  S , 

president  of  the  Patriotic  Relief  Corps,  and  im- 
plored his  aid. 

"  Could  I  not  go  with  the  next  supply  train? " 

"Impossible." 

I  seemed  to  hear  Frederick's  voice,  pleading 
more  and  more  piteously  for  me  to  come.  I  was 
driven  to  the  brink  of  despair. 

"  For  God's  sake  help  me,  Baron  S .  You 

surely  recognize  me?" 

"  Baroness  Tilling,  daughter  of  General  Althaus, 
certainly  I  have  the  honor." 

"  You  are  about  to  send  a  train  to  Bohemia.    My 


152  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

dying  husband  needs  me.  If  you  have  a  heart — and 
you  show  by  your  activity  how  good  and  noble 
your  heart  is — do  not  refuse  my  request." 

With  many  doubts  he  finally  consigned  me  to  the 
care  of  a  surgeon  who  was  to  accompany  a  train 
carrying  hospital  and  sanitary  supplies.  The  train 
would  not  be  ready  for  an  hour.  Not  a  corner  was 
to  be  found  not  already  occupied  by  the  wretched 
sufferers.  A  long  train  came  in  filled  with  more 
wounded.  The  less  seriously  injured  stepped  down 
unaided;  for  the  worst  cases  cots  were  provided, 
upon  which  they  were  carried  under  shelter.  At 
my  feet  they  laid  a  man  who  gasped  unceasingly. 
I  stooped  over  him  to  say  some  sympathetic  word, 
but  sprang  back  in  horror,  covering  my  face  with 
my  hands.  His  features  no  longer  bore  the  sem- 
blance of  a  human  countenance;  the  under  jaw  was 
shot  away,  one  eye  was  hanging  out,  and  there  was 
a  suffocating  odor  of  blood  and  corruption.  The 
idea  came  into  my  head  that  this  might  be  Freder- 
ick, and  I  compelled  myself  to  look  again.  No — it 
was  not  my  husband. 

The  poor  wretch  was  carried  away. 

"  Lay  him  on  the  bench  there,"  I  heard  the  regi- 
mental surgeon  order.  "  No  use  in  sending  him  to 
the  hospital.  He's  already  three-fourths  dead." 

He  was  three-fourths  dead!  And  yet  he  must 
have  understood  these  words,  for  with  a  gesture  of 
despair  he  raised  his  arms  to  heaven. 

The  hour  passed,  and  with  four  Sisters  of  Charity 
and  several  surgeons  I  sat  in  the  car.  It  was  suffo- 
catingly warm,  and  the  odor  of  carbolic  acid  and 
medicinal  supplies  was  nauseating.  How  grateful 
I  felt  to  these  people  for  their  self-sacrificing  spirit 
in  hastening  to  the  aid  of  the  sufferers.  These 
brave  women,  who  cherished  for  all  mankind  a  love 
which  I  felt  only  for  my  husband,  by  its  power 
were  enabled  to  master  that  repugnance  natural  at 
the  sight  of  such  horrors,  through  the  greater  love 
they  bore  their  bridegroom,  Christ.  But  what  a 
small  measure  of  love  to  conquer  the  result  of  a 
thousand-fold  of  hate. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  153 

The  train  was  set  in  motion.  That  is  always  the 
moment  when  every  traveler  feels  as  if  on  the  road 
to  his  goal.  I  had  often  gone  over  this  route  and 
every  moment  I  was  reminded  of  hospitable  visits 
in  castles  which  we  passed,  of  the  charming  water- 
ing places  I  had  seen,  and  most  of  all  of  my  wed- 
ding journey,  when  on  our  way  to  a  warm  welcome 
in  the  capital  of  Prussia  (what  a  different  meaning 
this  last  word  had  for  us  now!).  And  to-day? 
What  was  our  aim  to-day?  To  reach  a  battlefield 
and  a  hospital — death  and  suffering.  I  shuddered. 

"  You  are  unwell,  Madam?"  asked  a  young  and 
sympathetic  surgeon.  "  I  have  been  told  you  go  to 
join  your  husband,  wounded  at  Koniggratz?" 

"  No,  Doctor,"  I  answered,  "  I  am  not  ill,  only 
weary." 

"  Baron  S informed  me  that  your  husband 

is  wounded  at  Koniggratz,"  said  the  staff-surgeon 
joining  in  the  conversation.  "  Do  you  know  in  what 
locality  to  look  for  him?" 

"I  do  not  know  where  to  find  him.  I  expect  to 
meet  Doctor  Bresser." 

"  I  know  him.  He  was  with  me  when  I  visited 
the  battlefield  three  days  ago." 

"Visited  the  battlefield!  "  I  repeated,  shuddering; 
"tell  me " 

"  Yes,  tell  us  about  it,  Doctor,"  said  one  of  the 
Sisters,  "  it  may  aid  us  in  our  work." 

The  surgeon  told  his  story.  The  exact  wording 
I  no  longer  remember,  but  it  all  made  so  deep  an 
impression  that  I  afterwards  wrote  it  in  my  journal, 
from  which  I  now  copy  it. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  I  might  have 
found  it  difficult  to  remember  it  so  accurately;  but 
the  impression  that  Frederick  was  wounded  and 
calling  for  me  had  become  a  fixed  idea.  Hence  I 
imagined  him  figuring  in  every  scene,  and  conse- 
quently the  narration  became  intensely  real. 

"The  ambulance  corps  had  established  its  quarters  just 
below  some  protecting  hillocks,  not  far  from  where  the 


154  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

engagement  had  already  begun.  The  earth  and  the  very 
air  trembled  with  the  shock  of  battle.  Clouds  of  smoke 
rose  to  the  heavens;  the  guns  roared  unceasingly. 

"  Orders  came  to  send  out  the  relief  patrol  to  bring  in 
the  wounded. 

"  It  is  heroism  to  march  steadfastly  in  the  midst  of 
showers  of  bullets,  shot  and  shell,  to  witness  all  the 
horrors  and  all  the  dangers  of  the  struggle,  and  be  sus- 
tained by  none  of  the  wild  passion  of  the  conflict  ?  Ac- 
cording to  all  the  accepted  theories  of  war,  no  fame  may 
be  accorded  to  such  courage  as  this.  With  the  Sanitary 
Commission  there  serves  no  dashing,  gallant,  swaggering 
youngster;  for  them  no  enthusiastic  girls  turn  for  an  after 
glance,  nor  can  regimental  surgeons  measure  attractions 
with  a  cavalry  lieutenant. 

"  The  corporal  having  charge  of  the  relief  corps  ordered 
his  men  to  a  point  on  the  field  upon  which  one  of  the 
batteries  of  the  enemy  had  opened  fire.  They  marched 
through  the  grey  veil  of  powder,  smoke,  and  dust,  balls 
falling  in  front  and  around  them.  They  had  scarcely 
crossed  the  open  ground  when  they  met  straggling 
groups  of  wounded — these  only  the  slightly  wounded, 
able  to  help  themselves  and  each  other.  One  fell  in- 
sensible. It  was  not  because  of  his  wound,  though  that 
was  serious;  it  was  exhaustion.  '  We  have  eaten  nothing 
for  two  days,'  they  said ;  '  we  made  a  forced  march  of 
twelve  hours,  went  into  camp,  and  two  hours  later  came 
the  long  roll  and  the  battle.' 

"  The  relief  moved  forward.  These  men  must  help  their 
comrade.  On  the  stony  side  of  a  rise  of  ground  lay  a 
bleeding  mass — a  dozen  or  more  men.  The  surgeons 
bound  up  the  most  urgent  and  desperate  wounds,  but 
neither  can  these  victims  be  taken  back;  perhaps  later 
they  may  be  helped,  after  those  now  lying  in  the  thick 
of  the  battle  have  been  looked  after.  'Forward  relief!' 
As  they  approach  the  point  of  attack,  the  groups  of 
staggering  wounded  increased  and  surrounded  them. 
Water  and  spirits  were  measured  out,  bandages  hastily 
applied,  a  word  of  encouragement  was  spoken,  and  the 
way  to  the  ambulance  was  pointed  out.  On  again  they 
went,  past  the  dead, — the  piles  of  dead.  All  these  creat- 
ures, horse  and  human  being,  showed  in  feature  and  atti- 
tude the  extreme  of  suffering.  Staring,  agonized  eyes, 
hands  ground  into  the  earth,  the  hair  of  the  beard  stiff- 
ened, teeth  clinched  together  under  tortured,  half-open 
lips,  legs  and  arms  rigid  in  the  awful  convulsions  of  death 
— there  they  lay. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  155 

"  Now  the  relief  patrol  entered  a  ravine.  Here  the  men 
lay  as  in  a  slaughter  house,  dead  and  wounded  mixed  to- 
gether. The  wounded  greeted  them  as  rescuing  angels, 
and  with  broken  voices,  weeping,  whispering,  implored 
piteously  a  little  help — only  a  little  water.  In  vain!  Sup- 
plies were  almost  exhausted,  and  the  little  served  so  few. 
One  needed  a  hundred  hands.  Suddenly  there  arose 
above  the  roar  of  battle  the  long  drawn  notes  of  the 
sanitary  call.  The  corporal  started,  waiting  for  the  second 
signal,  while  the  broken  and  mangled  wretches  piteously 
begged  not  to  be  left  upon  the  field.  Again  and  again  the 
bugle  shrilly  called,  and  an  adjutant  rode  furiously  up. 
'  Sanitary  Corps! '  he  sharply  called,  and  they  followed 
his  command. 

"  Evidently  it  was  a  wounded  general.  Orders  must  be 
obeyed  and  these  men  must  be  abandoned.  'Courage 
and  patience,  comrades;  we  will  be  back  again.'  Those 
who  spoke  and  those  who  heard  knew  this  was  not  true. 

"  They  rushed  forward  after  the  adjutant.  They  could 
not  stop  a  moment,  though  right  and  left  rose  cries  for 
help  and  groans  of  agony.  One  or  two  fell  on  the  field, 
struck  by  a  passing  ball,  but  they  too  were  left.  They 
swung  round  heaps  of  human  beings  mangled  by  the  feet 
of  cavalry  and  crushed  by  the  wheels  of  cannon,  but 
even  here  were  remnants  of  desperate  life  struggling  to 
rise  at  sight  of  the  rescuing  party." 

So  it  goes  on,  page  after  page,  in  my  red  note- 
book. There  is  an  account  of  the  moment  when,  in 
the  midst  of  the  binding  up  of  wounds,  shells  burst 
over  the  group  and  new  wounds  were  torn  open; 
or,  when  the  chance  of  battle  brought  the  conflict 
around  the  ambulances,  and  surgeons,  wounded, 
and  dying  were  swept  down  by  the  fleeing  and 
pursuing  troops;  or  when  terrified  horses,  mad 
with  agony,  rushed  over  the  stretchers  on  which 
the  desperately  wounded  were  being  carried,  who 
were  thus  thrown  crushed  and  lifeless  on  the 
ground.  Or  this  is  described — the  most  frightful 
scene  of  all.  A  hundred  helpless  men  had  been 
carried  into  a  farmhouse;  their  wounds  had  been 
dressed  and  they  had  been  made  as  easy  as  possible. 
The  poor  creatures  were  cheerful  and  grateful  for 
their  rescue.  A  shell  set  the  place  in  a  blaze.  A 
moment  later  and  the  shrieks  of  despair  were  heard 


156  "GROLND  ARMS!" 

even  above  the  ceaseless  roar — such  wild  and  des- 
perate despair  as  will  be  remembered  to  their  dying 
day  by  those  who  heard  it.  Ah,  me!  Though  I 
did  not  hear  it,  save  through  the  surgeon's  account, 
it  remained  hideously  unforgotten.  For  while  he 
told  it  I  seemed  to  hear  Frederick's  voice  rising 
from  the  raging  flames  where  these  poor  martyrs 
died. 

"  You  are  unwell,  dear  Madam,"  the  surgeon  said 
hastily.  "  I  have  tried  your  nerves  too  much." 

But  I  had  not  heard  enough.  I  assured  him  that 
my  faintness  was  merely  the  result  of  the  heat  and 
a  preceding  bad  night.  I  begged  him  to  continue. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  if  of  all  these  pictures  of  de- 
moniac passion  the  last  and  the  most  terrible  re- 
mained. 

"There  is  one  thing  still  more  frightful  than  the 
battlefield;  that  is,  the  field  after  the  battle.  We 
hear  no  thunder  of  cannon,  no  roar  of  musketry,  no 
roll  of  drums  nor  blast  of  trumpets;  we  see  no  flut- 
ter of  flags,  no  regimental  guidons;  we  only  catch 
low,  shuddering  groans  and  dying  gasps.  The 
trampled  earth  reeks  with  damp,  shimmering  pud- 
dles. All  the  fruits  of  the  field  are  destroyed  save 
here  and  there  some  straw-covered  remnant  of 
grain.  Smiling  villages  are  laid  in  ruins  and  ashes. 
The  trees  of  the  forest  are  charred  and  destroyed; 
the  hedges  are  torn  up  by  shells;  and  upon  this 
desolated  spot  lie  thousands  and  thousands  of  dead 
and  dying — hopeless,  helpless,  dying.  Not  a  blos- 
som or  a  blade  of  grass  is  to  be  seen,  nothing  but 
sabers,  bayonets,  knapsacks,  clothing,  abandoned 
caissons,  spiked  cannon.  Near  the  cannon  the 
ground  is  the  bloodiest;  there  lies  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  dead  or  half-dead  bodies,  literally  torn  to 
pieces  by  shot.  And  the  mangled  horses — such  of 
them  as  have  any  legs  left — make  efforts  to  rise,  fall 
again,  and  again  struggle  up,  until  at  last,  throw- 
ing up  their  heads,  they  announce  in  agonized, 
dying  shrieks  nature's  utter  overthrow.  A  gully 
was  filled  with  mangled  bodies.  The  unfortunate 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  157 

men,  severely  wounded,  had  crept  into  it,  hoping  to 
be  hid;  but  a  battery  had  run  over  them;  horses' 
hoofs  and  wheels  had  crushed  them.  Many  were 
still  living,  hopelessly  living. 

"There  is  something  more  devilish  than  all  this, 
the  appearance  of  the  vilest  scum  following  in  the 
wake  of  war-waging  humanity — the  battlefield  hy- 
ena. Scenting  the  booty  on  the  bodies  of  the  fal- 
len, these  monsters  in  human  shape  stoop  over  dead 
and  living  and  tear  the  clothing  from  their  bodies. 
Merciless!  Boots  are  jerked  off  bleeding  limbs, 
rings  are  drawn  from  wounded  hands,  or  if  the 
ring  does  not  slip  easily,  the  finger  is  cut  off  with 
it.  If  the  living  victim  faintly  protests  the  hyena 
quickly  puts  a  knife  into  his  throat,  or,  for  fear  of 
after  recognition,  tears  out  his  eyes." 

I  screamed  aloud  as  the  doctor  paused.  I  had 
followed  his  story  with  absorbed  attention,  and  the 
eyes  he  described  became  to  me  for  the  moment 
the  clear,  blue,  loving  eyes  of  Frederick. 

"Forgive  me,  Madam,"  he  said  gently.  "But 
you  would  hear  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  wish  to  hear  it  all.  What  you  have 
described  was  the  night  which  immediately  fol- 
lowed the  battle.  Was  it  starlight  when  these 
things  happened?" 

"  Yes,  and  torches  were  seen  all  over  the  field. 
The  details  sent  out  by  the  victors  to  search  for 
and  bring  in  the  wounded  carried  torches  and 
lanterns,  and  red  lanterns  were  hung  on  poles  to 
indicate  the  position  of  field  hospital  work." 

"And  the  next  morning — how  did  the  place  then 
look? " 

"  Even  more  fearful.  The  contrast  afforded  by 
the  clear,  glorious  light  of  day  made  the  fiendish 
work  of  man  seem  doubly  horrible.  Night  had 
given  a  ghostly,  fantastic  aspect,  which  by  day 
became  simply  hopeless.  One  then  first  realized 
the  astonishing  numbers  of  the  dead;  upon  the 
streets,  in  the  fields,  in  the  ravines,  behind  crum- 


158  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

bling  walls,  everywhere  was  death.  Plundered  and 
naked,  the  dead  and  wounded  were  in  the  same 
condition. 

"Notwithstanding  the  untiring  work  of  the  Sani- 
tary Corps,  numbers  of  these  poor  wretches  still  lay 
uncared  for,  either  benumbed  and  half-unconscious, 
or  calling  upon  all  who  passed  to  shoot  or  stab 
them  to  put  an  end  to  their  misery.  Swarms  of 
carrion  crows  settled  on  the  boughs  of  the  trees, 
croaking  their  satisfaction  at  the  approaching 
meal.  Starved  dogs  from  the  villages  licked  the 
wounds.  A  few  of  the  human  hyenas  still  stealthily 
plied  their  trade.  And  then  after  all  this  came  the 
great  burial." 

"Who  does  that,  the  Sanitary  Corps?" 

"How  could  they  undertake  such  a  gigantic 
task?  They  have  enough  to  do  to  care  for  the 
wounded?" 

"Details  of  soldiers?" 

"  No;  whoever  can  be  picked  up,  generally  camp 
followers  or  laborers  from  the  farms  around  about. 
But  they  manage  it  easily  enough.  They  some- 
times dig  long  trenches  and  throw  the  bodies  in 
head  over  heels,  just  as  it  happens;  or  they  make 
a  mound  of  corpses  and  throw  about  two  feet  of 
earth  over  them.  In  a  few  days  a  heavy  rain  will 
come  and  wash  the  earth  all  away;  but  what  do 
these  fellows  care.  They  were  a  cheerful  set,  I 
can  tell  you;  they  sang  and  whistled  at  their  work, 
and  made  all  manner  of  bad  puns.  They  did  not 
trouble  themselves  to  examine  very  carefully 
whether  there  was  still  any  life  in  these  bodies. 
Some  of  those  who  made  the  narrow  escape  of  be- 
ing buried  alive  have  told  me  by  what  a  mere 
chance  they  escaped.  That  is  a  picture  of  the 
next  morning,"  concluded  the  surgeon.  "Shall  I 
tell  you  what  happened  the  next  evening?" 

"I  can  tell  you  that,"  I  said.  "In  one  of  the 
capitals  of  the  belligerent  powers  the  telegraphic 
reports  of  victory  have  arrived.  In  the  forenoon, 
while  they  are  dancing  this  hyena  rondo  around  the 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  159 

trenches  of  the  dead  out  on  the  battlefield,  the  peo- 
ple in  the  city  are  collected  in  the  churches  singing 
'  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow,"  and  in 
the  evening  the  mothers  or  the  wives  of  some  of 
these  poor  fellows  who  are  buried  alive,  fasten  a  few 
wax  candles  in  the  window,  for  the  town  is  being 
illuminated." 

"  Yes,  dear  Madam,  this  comedy  is  usually  played. 
In  the  meantime,  upon  the  battlefield  itself,  the 
curtain  has  not  been  rung  down  upon  the  last  scenes 
of  the  tragedy.  Besides  those  buried  or  in  the  hos- 
pitals, there  yet  remain  the  missing.  Behind  dense 
thickets,  or  in  the  cornfields,  or  hid  beneath  the 
fallen  branches  of  some  shattered  trees,  they  have 
escaped  the  search  of  the  Sanitary  Corps  and  the 
grave  digger.  A  martyrdom  of  several  days  and 
nights  of  agony  is  the  fate  of  these;  they  lie  in  the 
sweltering  heat  of  midday,  the  damp  chill  and  hor- 
ror of  the  night,  bedded  on  stones  and  thistles, 
within  reach  of  the  stench  of  decaying  corpses, 
and  dreading  the  descent  of  the  carrion  birds  upon 
their  own  festering  wounds." 

It  was  a  wearisome  journey.  The  surgeon  had 
long  since  ceased  to  speak,  and  we  all  sat  absorbed 
in  thought,  aroused  by  an  occasional  glimpse,  from 
the  windows,  of  the  effects  of  war.  True,  there 
were  no  smouldering  ruins  of  deserted  villages; 
the  enemy  had  not  yet  marched  through  the  coun- 
try, but  everywhere  were  evidences  of  the  univer- 
sal terror  at  the  prospect  of  their  approach.  The 
roads  were  filled  with  people  following  farm 
wagons  loaded  with  all  their  household  effects. 
Everything  indicated  the  haste  of  departure,  and 
they  fled  knowing  but  vaguely  where  they  were 
to  find  refuge.  "The  Prussians  are  coming!"  had 
been  the  cry  filling  them  with  wild  unreasoning 
terror. 

Occasionally  a  train  passed  us,  carrying  the 
wounded  to  inland  hospitals.  All  showed  the  same 
ashen  faces  and  bandaged  heads  and  limbs.  We 


160  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

passed  stations  filled  with  such  men  waiting  for 
transportation  further  south.  They  had  all  been 
brought  so  far  on  cots,  or,  when  able  to  sit  up,  by 
the  best  available  conveyances  from  the  field  or 
the  temporary  hospitals,  and  were  obliged  to  wait 
until  room  could  be  found  in  the  crowded  trains 
for  transfer  to  Vienna,  there  to  enter  the  hospital 
or  the  cemetery. 

Whenever  we  stopped  the  Sisters  of  Charity 
moved  rapidly  and  sympathetically  among  these 
sufferers,  supplying  them  with  water  or  wine,  and 
bestowing  a  little  care  through  deft  adjustment  of 
a  tired  shoulder  or  a  weary  head.  I  was  useless, 
unable  to  control  my  emotion  or  repress  my  phys- 
ical repulsion.  The  doctor  usually  led  me  hastily 
into  a  quiet  corner  and  gave  me  a  biscuit  and  a 
little  wine. 

This  rush  and  uproar  about  the  stations  bewil- 
dered me;  it  all  seemed  a  frightful  dream — the  run- 
ning hither  and  thither,  the  departing  troops,  the 
fugitives,  the  bearers  of  the  wounded  who  lay  on 
stretchers,  the  swarm  of  bleeding,  moaning  sol- 
diers, the  women  crying  and  wringing  their  hands; 
the  harsh  words  of  command,  the  pressure  every- 
where— not  a  foot  of  space  to  pass  through — the 
rumbling  of  passing  cannon,  the  baggage  wagons, 
the  neighing  horses,  and  now  and  then  the  an- 
nouncement of  approaching  trains  of  reserves  from 
Vienna — I  was  helpless  indeed.  And  yet  I  suffered 
the  very  anguish  of  sympathy.  Loaded  trains  from 
Vienna  filled  with  reserve  troops  met  us,  and  some- 
times stopped  at  these  stations.  I  could  not  even 
glance  at  these  sound,  bright  young  fellows  without 
heart-sickening  regrets.  With  the  speed  of  the 
wind  they  were  going  to  meet  a  similar  fate,  or  per- 
haps death,  and  not  of  their  own  volition,  cheerfully 
as  they  might  march  out. 

However  the  individual  may  console  himself 
with  the  uncertainty  of  his  fate,  there  is  always  a 
certain  per  cent  of  the  whole  which  must  and  does 
fall.  The  march  into  the  field,  whether  of  foot  or 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  161 

horse,  has  a  certain  antique  poetry  attached  to  it; 
but  the  modern  mode  of  transit,  the  railroad,  the 
symbol  of  the  unity  of  civilization,  is  a  hideous  con- 
tradiction. How  false  sounds  the  click  of  the  tele- 
graphic instrument — this  superb  result  of  human 
intellect,  which  conveys  the  thought  of  nations 
with  lightning-like  rapidity — all  these  discoveries 
to  advance  the  general  interests  of  peoples,  to 
relieve  the  cares  of  life,  to  beautify  and  enrich 
it;  they  are  all  abused  to  maintain  a  relic  of  an 
old-world  principle  which  divides  nations  and  de- 
stroys life. 

"Look  at  our  railroads!  see  our  telegraph  lines! 
we  are  civilized!  "  we  boast,  in  order  to  confute  bar- 
barians, and  then  abuse  these  results  of  culture 
that  we  may  develop  our  own  barbarism. 

Such  thoughts  embittered  and  deepened  my-  suf- 
fering. I  almost  envied  those  who  found  comfort 
in  simply  weeping  and  wringing  their  hands.  They 
could  not  realize  my  rage  against  the  whole  terrible 
comedy. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  I  arrived  in 
Koniginhof.  My  traveling  companions  had  left  me 
at  another  station.  I  dreaded  lest  Doctor  Bresser 
should  fail  to  meet  me.  I  was  completely  un- 
nerved by  the  experiences  of  the  night,  and  noth- 
ing except  the  intolerable  anxiety  about  Frederick 
enabled  me  to  retain  my  senses. 

I  carried  a  hand-satchel  with  a  change  of  clothing 
and  toilet  articles.  Custom  rendered  it  impossible 
to  conceive  of  existence  without  the  dainty  combs 
and  brushes,  the  pure  soap  and  water,  the  silver 
boxes  and  fine  towels.  Cleanliness,  that  virtue  of 
the  body  which  corresponds  to  purity  of  the  soul, 
the  second  nature  of  the  cultivated  human  being,  I 
was  soon  to  learn  must  at  such  times  be  entirely 
renounced.  Is  it  not  the  natural  result?  War  is 
the  antagonist  of  civilization,  and  all  the  sweet 
courtesies  of  culture  meet  with  destruction  through 
it;  it  is  a  return  to  barbarism,  and  all  barbaric  evils 
follow  in  its  train,  among  them  that  most  loathed 
by  the  cultivated  soul — filth  and  all  uncleanness. 


162  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

Koniginhof  was  filled  with  the  wounded  and  the 
station  was  densely  packed;  upon  the  ground,  upon 
the  stones,  every  nook  and  corner  was  filled.  It 
was  a  dark  night;  the  moon  had  not  yet  risen  and 
the  sky  was  almost  without  a  star.  Two  or  three 
lanterns  lighted  but  imperfectly  the  little  station 
where  I  left  the  train.  I  now  began  to  realize  the 
madness  of  my  mission.  Who  could  tell?  perhaps 
Frederick  was  on  his  way  home,  or  perhaps  dead 
and  buried;  how  could  I  find  him  here?  With 
the  thought  of  my  child  and  the  fear  of  missing 
Doctor  Bresser  I  searched  for  my  pocket-book  well 
supplied  with  bank-notes.  It  was  gone! 

The  surgeon-in-chief  was  pointed  out  and  I  was 
about  to  hasten  to  him  when  I  caught  sight  of 
Doctor  Bresser.  In  my  excitement  and  relief  I 
threw  myself  into  his  arms. 

"  Baroness  Tilling! "  he  exclaimed,  "  what  are 
you  doing  here?" 

"  I  have  come  to  help.  Is  Frederick  in  your  hos- 
pital?" 

"  I  have  not  seen  him." 

The  reply  was  both  a  relief  and  a  disappoint- 
ment. It  was  evident  I  must  search  for  him. 

"And  Frau  Simon?"  I  asked. 

"  She  has  arrived — a  magnificent  woman!  Quick 
to  decide,  and  prudent;  she  is  just  now  engaged  in 
having  the  wounded  carried  into  empty  railway 
cars.  She  has  discovered  that  the  suffering  is 
greatest  at  Horonewos,  and  we  are  going  there  at 
once." 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,  Doctor." 

"You — so  spoilt  and  unaccustomed  to  exertion; 
why,  it  is  hard,  repulsive  work." 

"  What  can  I  do  here,  Doctor  ?  If  you  are  my 
friend,  grant  my  wish.  Introduce  me  to  Frau 
Simon  as  a  volunteer  nurse  and  I  will  do  all  I  can." 

"Very  well,  yonder  is  the  noble  woman;  come." 

When  I  was  introduced  to  Frau  Simon  as  a  vol- 
unteer nurse  she  nodded,  but  turned  at  once  to 
order  that  attention  be  given  to  something  just 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  163 

brought  to  her  notice.  I  could  not  clearly  dis- 
tinguish her  features  in  the  uncertain  light.  Five 
minutes  later  we  were  on  our  way.  A  hay  wagon 
which  had  brought  some  wounded  men  to  the  sta- 
tion had  been  impressed  into  the  service.  We  sat 
upon  the  straw,  possibly  still  wet  from  the  wounds 
of  its  previous  occupants.  The  soldier  who  sat 
near  the  driver  held  a  lantern,  which  threw  un- 
certain shadows  upon  the  street.  "  Bad  dreams, 
bad  dreams,"  was  the  continual  impression  made 
upon  me  by  all  around  me.  The  only  thing  which 
forced  upon  me  the  reality  of  the  situation  was  the 
presence  of  Doctor  Bresser.  I  had  laid  my  hand 
on  his  and  his  arm  supported  me. 

"Lean  on  me,  Baroness  Martha — poor  child,"  he 
said  softly. 

But  what  an  uncomfortable  ride.  When  one  has 
been  accustomed  all  one's  life  to  rest  upon  soft 
beds  and  ride  upon  spring  cushions,  a  rickety  hay- 
wagon  with  a  little  straw  over  the  rough  boards  is 
torture.  And  I  was  sound  and  well.  What  must 
it  have  been  to  the  mangled  limbs,  the  shattered 
bones,  to  be  driven  over  the  rough  stones  in  such 
a  conveyance!  My  eyelids  felt  heavy  as  lead  and 
finally  closed,  but  sleep  seemed  impossible  to  me. 
The  discomfort  of  my  position,  the  excitement  of 
my  nerves  prevented  it,  while  thoughts  and  images 
of  the  disaster  through  which  we  were  passing,  all 
pressed  in  disordered  array  upon  my  brain.  Lean- 
ing on  Doctor  Bresser's  shoulder,  half  waking,  half 
dreaming,  I  caught  occasional  snatches  of  the  con- 
versation. 

"A  portion  of  the  defeated  army  fled  to  Konig- 
gratz.  The  fortress  gates  were  locked  and  the 
fugitives  were  fired  upon  from  the  walls;  particu- 
larly was  this  the  case  with  the  Saxons,  who  were 
mistaken  in  the  darkness  for  Prussians.  Hundreds 
threw  themselves  into  the  moat  and  were  drowned. 
On  the  Elbe  the  alarm  and  confusion  reached  the 
highest  pitch.  The  bridges  were  so  crowded  with 
horses  and  cannon  that  the  infantry  could  make  no 


164  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

use  of  them.  Thousands  threw  themselves  into  the 
river,  the  wounded  men  especially." 

"  It  is  said  to  be  frightful  at  Horonewos,"  said 
Frau  Simon.  "  The  inhabitants  have  left  the  vil- 
lage and  the  castle.  The  ruins  are  filled  with  help- 
less, wounded  men.  How  thankful  they  will  be  for 
our  help!  But  it  is  so  little  that  we  can  do." 

"And  our  surgical  aid  is  so  inadequate,"  said 
Doctor  Bresser.  "Hundreds  of  us  could  be  con- 
stantly employed.  We  lack  instruments  and  med- 
icine. The  over-crowding  of  all  these  places  threat- 
ens the  outbreak  of  dangerous  epidemic  diseases. 
The  first  care  must  be  to  send  away  as  many  as 
possible,  but  the  condition  of  the  majority  is  so  de- 
plorable that  we  cannot  conscientiously  move  them ; 
to  send  them  away  means  to  kill  them,  to  keep 
them  means  an  outbreak  of  hospital  fever — a  hard 
alternative!  What  I  have  seen  of  misery  and  suf- 
fering since  the  Battle  of  Koniggratz  passes  com- 
prehension. You  must  prepare  yourself  for  the 
worst,  Frau  Simon." 

"I  have  courage  and  years  of  experience.  The 
greater  the  misery  the  greater  my  powers  of  en- 
durance." 

"  I  know  that  is  your  reputation.  I,  on  the  con- 
trary, in  the  midst  of  so  much  misery,  lose  my 
courage  and  my  heart  fails  me.  To  hear  hundreds, 
nay  thousands,  pleading  for  help,  when  we  can- 
not help,  is  horrible!  Not  one  of  our  ambulances 
has  had  a  sufficient  supply  of  stimulants,  and  we 
have,  also,  particularly  lacked  water.  The  inhab- 
itants, before  they  fled,  rendered  the  springs  use- 
less; far  and  near  not  a  piece  of  bread  is  to  be  had. 
Every  roof-covered  space — churches,  houses,  barns, 
granaries — is  filled  with  sick  men.  The  streets 
are  jammed  with  everything  which  goes  upon 
wheels,  crowded  with  wounded  men.  They  are 
lying  there,  officers  and  men,  disfigured  with  blood, 
dust,  and  dirt,  and  dying  of  incurable  wounds." 

"Many  die  on  the  way?" 

"Certainly.     Many  turn  over  quietly  when  laid 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  165 

upon  a  bundle  of  straw,  and  breathe  their  last; 
others  suffer  such  excruciating  agony  that  they  give 
utterance,  in  their  ravings,  to  the  most  fearful 
curses.  Mr.  Twining  of  London  must  have  heard 
such  curses,  which  prompted,  perhaps,  the  sugges- 
tion made  by  him  to  the  Geneva  Red  Cross  Con- 
ference. He  says:  'When  the  condition  of  the 
wounded  does  not  offer  the  slightest  hope  of  re- 
covery, would  it  not  be  justifiable,  after  offering 
them  the  consolations  of  religion,  so  far  as  circum- 
stances would  admit,  to  give  them  a  moment  of  re- 
flection and  then  put  an  end  to  their  agony  in  the 
least  painful  manner.  We  should  thus  preserve 
them  from  the  torments  of  fever  which  madden 
the  brain,  and  perhaps  prevent  their  dying  with 
curses  of  God  upon  their  lips '." 

"  How  unchristian,"  cried  Frau  Simon. 

"  What?     The  gracious  method  of  relief?  " 

"  No;  but  the  idea  that  such  martyrs  can  com- 
mit sin  through  the  curses  of  a  maddened  brain. 
The  God  of  the  Christians  is  not  so  unjust,  and 
surely  takes  every  fallen  soldier  unto  himself." 

"  Mohammed's  paradise  is  promised  to  every 
Turk  who  slays  a  Christian,"  replied  Bresser.  "  Be- 
lieve me,  Frau  Simon,  all  these  gods  represented 
as  inciting  to  war,  whose  blessing  and  assistance 
the  priests  and  commander-in-chief  promise  to 
the  soldier  as  the  reward  of  murder,  are  alike  deaf 
to  curses  and  to  prayers.  Look  up  there  at  that 
star  of  the  first  magnitude  with  a  red  light;  every 
two  years  it  shines  directly  above  our  heads.  That 
is  the  planet  Mars,  the  star  consecrated  to  the  God 
of  War;  that  god  in  ancient  times  was  so  feared 
and  honored  that  far  more  temples  were  dedicated 
to  him  than  to  the  Goddess  of  Love.  At  the  Battle 
of  Marathon,  in  the  pass  of  Thermopylae,  that  blood- 
red  star  shone  down  upon  men,  and  the  curses  of 
the  dying  mounted  up  to  it;  they  accused  it  of 
being  the  cause  of  their  misfortune,  while  it  apa- 
thetically and  peacefully,  just  as  to-day,  moved 
round  the  sun.  Unfriendly  stars?  There  are  none. 


166  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

Mankind  has  no  other  enemy  than  man — and  no 
other  friend." 

"O  Doctor!  look  there  at  the  flames  on  the  hori- 
zon; surely  it  is  a  burning  village." 

I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  the  red  light. 

"  No,"  said  Doctor  Bresser,  "it  is  the  moon  rising." 

I  endeavored  to  obtain  a  more  comfortable  posi- 
tion and  sat  up.  I  determined  that  I  would  not 
again  close  my  eyes;  this  half-waking,  half-dream- 
ing condition,  in  which  the  most  frightful  and  fan- 
tastic images  filled  my  brain,  was  unendurable.  It 
was  far  better  to  take  part  in  the  conversation  and 
break  loose  from  my  own  thoughts. 

But  the  Doctor  and  Frau  Simon  were  silent. 
They  watched  the  spot  where  the  moon  was  slowly 
rising.  At  length  sleep  really  closed  my  eyes. 

After  a  lapse  of  time  which  I  could  not  measure, 
I  was  roused  from  my  fitful  slumber  by  an  unen- 
durable, pestilential  odor. 

"What  is  that?" 

The  wagon  turned  a  corner  and  the  cause  was 
apparent. 

By  the  clear  light  of  the  moon  there  rose  a  high, 
white  wall,  probably  that  of  a  churchyard.  It  had 
served  as  a  breastwork  and  at  its  base  lay  piled  up 
countless  corpses.  The  odor  of  corruption  which 
rose  from  these  bodies  had  aroused  us  all.  As  we 
drove  by  swarms  of  ravens  and  crows  arose  croak- 
ing from  the  pile,  fluttered  about,  and  again  settled 
down  upon  their  feast. 

"  Frederick,  my  Frederick!" 

"  Be  still,  Baroness  Martha,"  said  the  Doctor 
sharply.  "Your  husband  could  not  be  among 
them." 

Why  not?  The  husbands  of  other  women  were 
there. 

The  soldier  who  was  driving  whipped  up  his 
horses  to  escape  the  sickening  odor.  The  wagon 
creaked  and  rocked  as  if  we  were  in  wildest  flight. 
I  thought  the  horses  were  running  away.  With 
fright  I  held  on  with  both  hands  to  Bresser's  arm, 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  167 

but  I  could  not  help  turning  my  head  to  see  that 
dreadful  wall  and — was  it  the  deceptive  light  of  the 
moon,  was  it  the  motion  of  the  wings  of  the  carrion 
birds?  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  all  these  bodies 
stretched  their  arms,  as  if  they  raised  themselves 
to  follow  us. 

I  would  have  shrieked,  but  terror  held  my  throat 
as  in  a  vice. 

We  again  turned  a  corner. 

"  Here  we  are,  this  is  Horonewos,"  I  heard  the 
Doctor  say. 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  the  woman? "  com- 
plained Frau  Simon.  "  She  will  be  more  of  a  bur- 
den than  a  help." 

I  roused  myself. 

"  No,  no,"  I  begged,  "  I  am  better  now.  I  will 
help  all  I  can." 

In  the  middle  of  the  village  we  found  ourselves 
at  the  door  of  an  old  castle. 

"  We  will  see  here  first  what  we  have  to  do,"  said 
the  Doctor.  "  The  building,  now  abandoned  by  its 
owner,  is  said  to  be  filled  from  cellar  to  attic?" 

We  got  out  of  the  wagon.  I  could  scarcely  stand, 
but  made  the  greatest  exertions  to  prevent  this 
being  observed. 

"Forward!"  said  Frau  Simon.  "Have  we  all  of 
our  bundles?  What  I  carry  will  bring  comfort  to 
these  poor  fellows." 

"  And  in  my  bag  I  have  bandages  and  liquors," 
I  answered. 

"And  my  bag  contains  instruments  and  medi- 
cines," added  Bresser,  who  then  ordered  two  of  the 
soldiers  to  accompany  us  and  the  other  two  to 
remain  with  the  horses. 

Loaded  down  with  our  satchels  of  bandages, 
medicine,  and  wines,  we  entered  the  great  door. 
Low  sighs  and  groans  were  heard  on  all  sides. 

"  Light!     Give  us  a  light,"  cried  Frau  Simon. 

Alas!  we  had  brought  much,  but  not  the  most 
necessary  thing.  There  was  not  a  possibility  of 
penetrating  the  darkness.  A  small  box  of  matches 


168  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

which  the  Doctor  chanced  to  have  in  his  pocket 
served  for  a  few  seconds  to  show  us  the  scene  of 
misery  which  filled  the  hall  we  had  entered.  The 
foot  slid  along  the  floor  slippery  with  blood.  What 
was  to  be  done? 

"I  will  hunt  up  the  house  of  the  village  priest," 
said  Frau  Simon.  "  Come,  Doctor,  to  the  door  with 
your  matches.  Frau  Martha,  you  stay  here  until 
he  returns." 

I  shuddered  in  every  limb.  Stay  here  in  this 
terrible  stench,  surrounded  by  these  groaning  men! 

"  No,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  come  with  us.  You  can 
not  stay  in  this  purgatorial  fire." 

Thankfully  I  seized  his  arm.  Alas!  I  was  the 
average  woman,  helpful  and  faithful  in  the  ordi- 
nary walks  of  life,  but  in  unusual  emergencies  un- 
fit to  cope  with  circumstances.  As  we  made  our 
way  back  I  repeatedly  called  "  Frederick,"  but 
there  was  no  response.  I  climbed  into  the  wagon 
at  the  door  to  wait  for  the  return  of  the  Doctor  and 
Frau  Simon.  Two  soldiers  stood  near  me,  the  others 
accompanied  the  Doctor.  In  a  short  time  they 
returned  from  the  unsuccessful  expedition.  They 
had  found  the  pastor's  house  in  ruins  and  nowhere 
was  a  light  to  be  had;  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  to  await  the  morning.  How  many  of  the  un- 
happy wretches,  in  whose  hearts  hope  had  been 
awakened  by  our  coming,  would  die  before  the 
light  of  day? 

Morning  dawned.  Now  to  work.  Frau  Simon 
and  Doctor  Bresser  went  about  to  hunt  up  the  in- 
habitants of  the  village.  They  succeeded  in  find- 
ing a  few  frightened  peasants  hid  among  the  ruins 
of  their  former  homes.  At  first  they  were  obsti- 
nate and  suspicious.  A  little  earnest  talk  in  their 
own  dialect  from  Doctor  Bresser,  and  a  few  sym- 
pathetic words  in  the  soft  voice  of  Frau  Simon 
reassured  them.  They  disappeared  and  brought 
others,  who  at  once  went  to  work  assisting  in  the 
manifold  duties  before  us  all.  Some  buried  the 
dead,  others  cleared  out  the  choked-up  springs  in 


"GROUND   ARMS!"  169 

order  that  an  abundance  of  water  might  be  ob- 
tained; mess  chests  and  knapsacks  were  collected 
to  furnish  table  ware  and  clothing;  a  Prussian  sur- 
geon with  a  staff  of  assistants  arrived,  and  before 
long  marked  progress  was  made  in  relieving  the 
general  distress. 

Frau  Simon  joined  the  Prussian  surgeon  at  the 
castle  where  the  majority  of  the  wounded  were 
lying.  Doctor  Bresser  undertook  to  visit  other 
localities  in  the  village  and  I  joined  him  to  pursue 
my  search.  The  Doctor  had  discovered  that  Fred- 
erick was  not  at  the  castle. 

We  had  scarce  gone  a  hundred  rods  when  a  loud 
cry  of  distress  fell  upon  our  ears.  We  pressed  for- 
ward into  the  open  door  of  the  little  church  from 
which  the  sound  seemed  to  come.  About  a  hun- 
dred men  lay  upon  the  hard  stone  pavement — 
severely  wounded  and  mangled.  With  feverish  and 
wandering  eyes  they  cried  and  begged  for  water. 
Almost  fainting  with  terror  I  sought  through  the 
rows  for  Frederick — he  was  not  there.  Bresser 
and  his  attendants  went  to  work  among  them;  I 
leaned  on  a  side  altar  and  looked  with  inexpressible 
horror  upon  this  scene  of  suffering. 

And  this  was  the  temple  of  the  God  of  eternal 
Love,  these  were  the  wonder-working  saints  whose 
images  around  the  walls  and  in  the  niches  piously 
folded  their  hands  and  lifted  their  heads  under 
their  halo  of  glory? 

"  O  Mother  of  God,  dear  Mother  of  God,  a  drop 
of  water!  Have  mercy!"  I  heard  a  poor  soldier  cry. 
He  might  have  vainly  called  upon  the  painted  im- 
age to  all  eternity.  O  miserable  men,  until  you 
obey  the  law  of  love  which  God  has  stamped  upon 
your  hearts,  you  vainly  petition  for  the  love  of  God. 
So  long  as  cruelty  among  you  is  unsubdued,  you 
have  little  to  hope  from  Heaven's  compassion. 

What  did  I  not  experience  through  that  dreadful 
day! 

Do  not  repeat  it ;  that  would   certainly  be  the 


170  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

pleasantest  and  simplest  way.  We  shut  our  eyes 
and  turn  away  our  heads  when  things  unpleasant  or 
harassing  are  in  view;  it  is  convenient  also  to  lock 
the  door  upon  memory.  And  we  cry:  "Ho  wean 
we  help  it;  how  can  we  amend  the  past;  why  tor- 
ment ourselves  and  others  with  the  repetition  of 
the  horrible." 

Why?  I  will  tell  you  later.  This  much  I  say,  I 
must  say  now;  it  is  drawn,  not  from  my  own  ex- 
perience alone,  but  from  that  of  Doctor  Bresser, 
Frau  Simon,  and  the  Saxon  surgeon-in-chief,  Doc- 
tor Naundorff.  Compare  my  story  with  a  recent 
and  most  touching  report  called  "  Under  the  Red 
Cross." 

As  in  Horonewos,  so  in  many  other  neighboring 
localities  Hell  had  held  high  carnival.  In  Pardu- 
bitz,  first  occupied  by  the  Prussians,  "  there  were 
over  a  thousand  wounded  men  with  amputated 
limbs,  or  otherwise  suffering  from  the  experiments 
of  desperate  science,  the  last  chance  for  life,  in 
unusual  cases,  being  risked  on  a  surgical  venture. 
Nature's  rough  nursing  was  all  they  had;  some 
were  dying,  some  already  dead,  some  lying  next 
the  dead  and  envying  their  release.  Many  with 
no  covering  save  a  bloody  shirt,  so  that  it  was 
impossible,  through  lack  of  uniform,  to  tell  from 
what  part  of  Germany  they  came.  All  who  had  a 
spark  of  intelligence  left  begged  piteously  for 
water  and  for  bread,  writhing  under  the  agony  of 
their  wounds,  and  imploring  Heaven  for  the  release 
of  death." 

"  Rossnitz,"  wrote  Doctor  Bresser  afterwards, 
"Rossnitz  is  the  place  which  will  be  stamped  upon 
my  memory  until  my  dying  hour.  I  was  sent  there 
the  sixth  day  after  the  battle,  and  there  found  the 
greatest  physical  misery  possible  for  the  human 
imagination  to  picture.  I  found  our  R.  with  six 
hundred  and  fifty  wounded,  surrounded  by  the 
dead  and  dying,  who  had  lain  all  these  days,  with- 
out succor,  in  the  most  miserable,  most  filthy  stables 
and  cattle  pens.  It  was  here  that  after  burying 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  171 

Lieut.-Col.  F I  was  so  overwhelmed  with  the 

hopeless  magnitude  of  the  suffering,  that  for  an  hour 
I  shed  the  bitterest  tears.  Although  as  a  surgeon 
I  was  accustomed  to  witness  the  extreme  of  human 
misery,  and  in  the  practice  of  my  profession  had 
learned  to  exercise  self-control,  in  this  place  it  re- 
quired all  my  manhood  to  recover  self-possession." 

"  It  is  impossible,"  wrote  Doctor  Naundorff,  "  to 
picture  truthfully  the  condition  of  these  six  hun- 
dred men.  The  undressed,  open  wounds  were  tor- 
mented by  swarms  of  flies;  the  delirious  patients 
vainly  pled  for  water,  bread,  and  help,  their  cloth- 
ing saturated  with  blood  and  stiff  with  the  corrup- 
tion of  mangled  flesh,  covered  in  many  cases  with 
living  worms  generated  in  this  decay.  A  terrible 
stench  filled  every  place.  All  these  soldiers  lay 
upon  the  bare  ground,  with  the  exception  of  a  very 
few  who  had  secured  a  little  straw  upon  which  to 
stretch  their  wretched  bodies.  Under  some  the 
filthy  soil  was  so  soft  that  they  had  sunk  in  it  and 
were  unable  to  raise  themselves." 

"In  Masloved,"  Frau  Simon  tells  us,  "eight  days 
after  the  battle,  we  found  seven  hundred  wounded 
men.  The  hopelessness  of  their  condition  as  well 
as  their  suffering  cried  to  Heaven.  In  one  stable 
there  were  sixty  crowded  together.  The  character 
of  their  injuries  was  desperate  under  the  best  cir- 
cumstances: here,  from  lack  of  every  surgical  atten- 
tion, and  with  no  other  care,  their  condition  had 
become  hopeless;  among  all  gangreen  had  set  in. 
Shattered  limbs  had  become  a  mass  of  corruption; 
swollen  faces,  covered  with  dirt  or  encrusted  with 
blood,  seemed  to  have  but  one  black  opening  to 
indicate  the  mouth  from  which  issued  ceaseless 
groans.  There  had  been  no  one  to  remove  the 
dead  bodies,  and  we  hesitated  as  to  which  were  the 
living  and  which  the  dead.  It  is  astonishing  what 
human  nature  can  endure." 

What  is  more  marvelous  to  my  notion  is  that 
human  beings  will  subject  themselves  to  such  pos- 
sibility of  agony;  that  men  will  not  swear  before 


172  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

high  heaven  that  war  shall  not  be;  if  they  are 
princes,  that  they  do  not  break  their  swords;  if 
they  have  no  other  power,  that  they  do  not  de- 
vote themselves  by  thought  and  word,  by  writing, 
by  preaching,  and  by  acting  to  one  common  cry: 
"GROUND  ARMS!" 

Frau  Simon  was  a  heroine,  the  "Hospital  Mother," 
they  called  her.  Through  her  efforts  and  her  wise 
superintendence  hundreds  were  saved.  One  mo- 
ment she  performed  the  humblest  service,  the  next 
she  was  superintending  the  transportation  of  sup- 
plies. She  hastened  from  one  place  to  another  and 
overcame,  by  her  tremendous  energy,  the  most  dis- 
couraging obstacles. 

And  I  ?  Terror-stricken,  despairing,  overcome 
with  anxiety  and  repulsion,  I  fainted  on  the  steps 
of  the  altar  of  the  little  church  we  had  entered, 
and  when  I  again  fully  realized  my  situation,  I 
found  myself  in  a  railway  car,  surrounded  by  num- 
bers of  slightly  wounded  officers,  and  seated  by 
Doctor  Bresser.  We  were  on  our  way  to  Vienna 
leaving  Frau  Simon  delighted  to  be  rid  of  me.  I 
had  not  found  Frederick,  and  I  had  not  abandoned 
hope.  I  might  find  some  news  of  him  at  home. 

But  the  gigantic  misery  I  had  witnessed  had 
sunk  so  deep  into  my  heart  that  it  seemed  to  me 
I  could  never  recover  from  it.  Even  if  I  found 
Frederick,  and  a  long  future  of  happiness  and  love 
was  granted  us,  I  could  never  forget  that  so  many 
of  my  poor  human  brothers  and  sisters  had  borne 
such  indescribable  agony. 

I  slept  during  nearly  the  whole  journey.  Doctor 
Bresser  had  given  me  a  light  narcotic  in  order  that 
a  long  and  sound  sleep  might  quiet  my  nerves. 

When  we  arrived  at  Vienna  I  found  my  father 
waiting  for  me.  He  embraced  me  silently  and 
then  turned  to  Doctor  Bresser. 

"How  shall  I  thank  you?  If  you  had  not  taken 
this  crazy  woman  under  your  protection " 

But  the  Doctor  hastily  shook  hands. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  173 

"  I  cannot  stop.  The  young  woman  needs  care; 
no  complaints,  no  reproofs;  put  her  to  bed,  give 
her  orange-flower  water,  rest — good-by." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Frederick  ?"  came  to  my 
lips,  but  I  had  not  the  courage  to  utter  the  words. 
At  last  hope  desperately  mastered  fear. 

"  Up  to  last  night  not  a  word,"  he  replied.  "  But 
possibly  we  may  find  news  at  home.  I  left  there 
last  night,  as  soon  as  Doctor  Bresser's  despatch 
came.  How  anxious  you  have  made  us,  you  silly 
thing.  To  venture  upon  the  battlefield  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  enemy — those  fellows  are  savages. 
They  have  become  insane  about  their  needle  guns. 
They  are  not  disciplined  soldiers  either,  and  all 
manner  of  outrages  are  to  be  expected  from  them. 
And  you,  a  woman,  must  run  right  into  the  midst 
of  them.  Well,  well,  the  Doctor  said  I  must  not 
scold " 

"How  is  Rudolph?" 

"  He  cries  and  howls  because  he  cannot  find  you 
in  the  house;  he  will  not  believe  you  have  gone 
away,  because  you  did  not  kiss  him  good-by.  Why 
do  you  not  ask  after  the  others — Lilli,  Rosa,  Otto, 
Aunt  Marie?  You  act  so  strangely  indifferent." 

"  How  are  they  all?     Has  Conrad  written?" 

"  All  are  well.  A  letter  came  from  Conrad  yes- 
terday, and  Lilli  is  happy.  You  will  see  Tilling  will 
come  out  sound  and  well.  Unfortunately  there  is 
nothing  good  to  report  in  the  political  horizon. 
You  have  heard  of  the  great  disaster? " 

"I  have  heard  nothing,  I  have  seen  nothing  but 
disaster  and  misery." 

"Our  beautiful  Venice  is  handed  over  on  a  plate 
to  Louis  Napoleon,  and  that  after  such  a  brilliant 
victory  as  we  won  at  Custozza.  Instead  of  recov- 
ering Lombardy  we  have  given  up  Venice.  By  this 
arrangement  we  have  peace  in  the  south,  have  got 
Louis  Napoleon  on  our  side,  and  can  revenge  our- 
selves for  Sadowa,  drive  the  Prussians  out  of  the 
country,  pursue  them  and  conquer  Silesia.  Bene- 
dek  has  made  dreadful  mistakes,  but  the  command 


174  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

is  turned  over  to  the  glorious  general  of  the  army 
of  the  south.  Why  do  you  not  answer?  Well,  I 
will  obey  Bresser's  order  and  leave  you  alone  in 
peace." 

After  a  two-hour's  drive  we  arrived  at  Grumitz. 

My  two  sisters  rushed  to  meet  us  as  the  carriage 
stopped. 

"  Martha,  Martha,"  they  cried,  "  he  is  here." 

"Who?" 

"  Frederick." 

Yes,  it  was  true.  He  had  arrived  the  evening 
before.  A  bullet  had  gone  through  his  leg  inca- 
pacitating him  at  once.  He  had  been  carried  from 
the  field  to  the  nearest  station,  and  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible had  been  sent  to  Vienna. 

But  even  joy  is  hard  to  bear.  The  report  that 
Frederick  was  there  had  the  same  effect  as  the  ter- 
rors of  the  preceding  day — it  robbed  me  of  my 
senses.  I  was  carried  from  the  carriage  and  put  to 
bed.  Here,  thanks  to  the  after  effects  of  the  nar- 
cotic, or  to  the  shock  of  relief  caused  by  joy,  I 
spent  several  hours,  half  sleeping,  in  half  delirious 
unconsciousness.  When  I  awoke  and  looked  about 
me,  I  believed  that  I  had  wakened  from  some  awful 
dream  and  that  I  had  never  left  Grumitz.  The 
letter  from  Bresser,  my  determination  to  go  to 
Bohemia,  my  experiences  there,  the  journey  back, 
the  report  of  Frederick's  return — all  seemed  but  a 
dream. 

I  looked  up.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed  stood  my 
maid.  "  Is  my  bath  ready? "  I  asked,  "  I  would  like 
to  get  up." 

Aunt  Marie  started  up  from  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Ah,  Martha,  my  treasure,  are  you  really  awake 
and  in  your  senses.  Thank  God!  Yes,  yes,  get 
up;  yes,  yes,  take  your  bath,  it  will  do  you  good, 
covered  as  you  are  with  dust  and  dirt  from  the 
cars " 

"Dust  from  the  cars — what  do  you  mean? " 

"  Quick,  get  up.  Netti,  get  everything  ready. 
Frederick  is  dying  of  impatience  to  see  you." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  175 

"Frederick,  my  Frederick!" 

How  often  during  the  preceding  days  I  had 
with  agony  called  this  name,  but  now  it  was  a  cry 
of  joy.  It  was  not  a  dream;  I  had  returned  and 
should  see  my  husband. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  I  went  to  him.  Alone 
— I  had  begged  that  no  one  should  follow  me.  I 
wished  no  one  to  witness  our  meeting. 

"  Frederick!  "  "  Martha!  "  I  sunk  upon  his  bed 
and  sobbed  upon  his  breast. 

This  was  the  second  time  in  my  life  that  my 
husband  had  returned  to  me  in  safety,  for  his 
wound  was  not  of  a  dangerous  character.  What 
was  I  that  I  had  reached  the  shore  of  happiness, 
when  so  many  thousands  had  sunk  beneath  the 
waves  of  this  flood  of  misery. 

Happy  are  they  who  in  such  a  case  can  lift  a 
glance  to  heaven  and  express  their  deep  gratitude 
to  the  Almighty  Guide;  through  such  thankful- 
ness, when  humbly  uttered  and  humbly  felt,  but 
which  they  do  not  realize  to  be  founded  in  pre- 
sumption and  self-conceit,  they  feel  that  they  are 
absolved,  and  that  for  this  peculiar  advantage, 
which  they  call  special  grace  and  favor  of  Provi- 
dence, they  have,  according  to  their  standard,  bal- 
anced their  account  with  Heaven.  This  was  not 
possible  to  me..  When  I  thought  of  the  misery 
which  I  had  seen,  and  of  the  despairing  wives  and 
mothers  whose  husbands  and  sons,  by  the  same 
fate  which  favored  me,  had  been  plunged  into  the 
abyss  of  torment  and  destruction,  it  became  to  me 
impossible  to  accept  my  happy  lot  as  a  decree  of 
Providence  for  which  my  thanks  were  due.  I  re- 
membered how  I  had  one  day  seen  our  housekeeper 
sweep  out  a  closet  where  swarms  of  ants  had  con- 
gregated; fate  had  in  just  such  a  fashion  swept 
over  the  Bohemian  battlefields,  and  the  poor  in- 
dustrious workers  had  been  as  mercilessly  crushed, 
scattered,  and  destroyed.  Only  a  small  remnant 
remained  unhurt.  Would  it  have  been  reasonable 
and  just  if  those  few  ants  had  sent  up  their  prayers 
of  gratitude  to  Frau  Walter? 


176  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

No;  however  great  the  joy  of  re-union,  this  could 
not  drive  from  my  heart  the  sorrow  and  suffering 
I  had  seen.  I  had  an  account  to  settle  with  the 
world.  I  had  not  been  able  to  do  efficient  service 
like  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  or  Frau  Simon.  But  the 
compassion  which  springs  from  inmost  sympathy 
I  felt  for  all  these,  my  fellow  men,  and  I  dared  not 
forget  them  in  egotistical  self-enjoyment. 

"  O  Frederick,  Frederick!  "  I  exclaimed  one  day 
with  tears  and  kisses,  "  have  I  really  found  you 
again? " 

"  And  you  rushed  out  to  find  and  nurse  me, 
Martha?  That  was  heroic  and — foolish." 

"  Foolish — I  know  it.  I  imagined  I  heard  your 
voice  calling  me;  I  had  a  presentiment,  which  was 
imagination  and  superstition,  that  you  were  lost 
to  me.  But  heroic — no.  If  you  only  knew  how 
cowardly  I  was  in  the  presence  of  all  that  misery. 
You  I  could  have  nursed,  only  you.  Oh,  our  beau- 
tiful world!  how  can  man  make  it  so  terrible?  A 
world  in  which  two  human  beings  can  love  each 
other  as  you  and  I  love,  in  which  such  fiery  happi- 
ness as  ours  can  blaze — how  can  one  be  so  mad 
as  to  light  the  flame  of  death  and  misery-laden 
hate?" 

"  I  have  seen  things  horrible  enough,  Martha — 
something  I  shall  never  forget.  One  day,  whom  do 
you  think  I  saw  spring  upon  me  with  uplifted 
saber,  during  a  cavalry  engagement  at  Sadowa? 
Gottfried  von  Tessow." 

"Aunt  Cornelia's  son?" 

"Yes;  he  recognized  me  in  time  and  dropped 
his  sword." 

"Which  he  was  not  justified  in  doing.  What! 
spare  an  enemy  of  king  and  country,  under  the 
unworthy  pretense  that  he  was  a  dear  friend  and 
cousin! " 

"The  poor  young  fellow!  He  had  scarcely 
dropped  his  arm  when  a  saber  fell  on  his  own 
head.  It  was  done  by  my  neighbor,  a  young  lieu- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  177 

tenant,  who  saw  his  colonel  in  danger  and  wanted 
to  save  him." 

Frederick  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"Killed?"  I  asked  shuddering. 

He  nodded. 

"Mamma,  Mamma!"  came  from  the  adjoining 
room,  and  the  door  was  thrown  open.  It  was  my 
little  Rudolph  with  Lilli. 

I  hurried  to  meet  the  child  and  clasped  him 
passionately  to  my  heart.  "Ah,  poor,  poor  Aunt 
Cornelia! " 

The  war  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  abandon- 
ment of  Austria's  claim  to  Venice  ended  the  con- 
flict with  Italy  and  France,  and  we  were  in  a  posi- 
tion to  make  favorable  terms  with  Prussia.  Our 
emperor  was  anxious  to  end  the  unhappy  campaign 
before  subjecting  his  capital  to  a  siege.  The  Prus- 
sian victories  in  other  parts  of  Germany,  as  well  as 
the  triumphant  entry  into  Frankfurt  on  the  six- 
teenth of  July,  lent  the  enemy  a  certain  nimbus, 
which  like  all  success  excited  the  admiration  of 
Austria  and  imbued  the  popular  mind  with  a  belief 
that  Prussia  must  have  a  certain  historical  mis- 
sion, to  be  accomplished  only  through  the  recent 
victories.  "Truce  "  and  "  peace"  were  words  fre- 
quently uttered,  and  we  could  as  securely  count 
upon  their  realization  as  in  times  when  war  is 
threatened  we  can  depend  upon  its  outbreak.  Even 
my  father  acknowledged  that  under  existing  cir- 
cumstances peace  was  desirable.  The  army  was 
exhausted,  the  superiority  of  the  needle  gun  recog- 
nized, and  a  march  of  the  enemy  upon  Vienna — the 
destruction  of  Grumitz  upon  the  way  being  prob- 
able— all  were  events  which  even  his  martial  mind 
could  not  contemplate  with  equanimity.  His  con- 
fidence in  the  invincibility  of  the  Austrian  troops 
had  been  rudely  shaken,  and  as  it  is  a  peculiarity 
of  human  nature  to  regard  current  events  as  being 
alternative  in  character — that  is,  that  success  fol- 
lows success,  misfortune  again  succeeds  misfortune 


178  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

— it  was  better  to  halt  during  the  unlucky  period. 
With  time  we  might  obtain  compensation,  and  prob- 
ably, also,  the  opportunity  for  revenge. 

Revenge,  and  again  revenge!  Every  war  must 
leave  one  side  vanquished,  and  if  the  defeated  seek 
for  satisfaction  through  another  war,  and  those  who 
lose  struggle  again  through  another,  where  will  it 
end?  How  can  justice  be  attained,  when,  in  the 
expiation  of  an  old  wrong,  another  wrong  is  to  be 
committed?  No  reasonable  creature  would  con- 
ceive of  the  idea  of  obliterating  ink  stains  with  ink, 
or  spots  of  oil  with  oil.  Only  blood  must  be  washed 
out  with  blood. 

The  prevailing  sentiment  in  Grumitz  was  of  the 
gloomiest  character.  In  the  village  the  inhabit- 
ants buried  or  hid  away  their  valuables,  under  the 
impression  that  the  Prussians  were  approaching; 
even  at  the  castle  Aunt  Marie  and  Frau  Walter 
had  secreted  the  family  silver.  We  read  nothing, 
we  talked  of  nothing  save  the  war  and  our  own 
experiences.  Lilli  suffered  the  most  intense  anxi- 
ety in  regard  to  Conrad,  of  whom  she  had  heard 
nothing  for  days.  My  brother  Otto  had  been 
charmed  by  the  report  from  his  military  academy, 
that  in  the  event  of  the  prolongation  of  war  the 
Senior  and  Junior  classes  might  be  called  into  serv- 
ice. Like  the  boarding-school  miss  looking  for- 
ward to  her  introduction  to  society,  he  longed  for 
his  gay  uniform  and  the  great  cannon  cotillion.  I 
had  ceased  by  Frederick's  advice  my  incessant  at- 
tacks upon  the  principle  of  war,  as  its  discussion 
caused  unpleasant  feeling.  But  we  were  both  de- 
cided that  at  the  announcement  of  peace,  Frederick 
should  send  in  his  resignation,  and  I  inwardly 
determined  that  under  no  circumstances  should 
my  son  Rudolph  be  educated  at  any  school  where 
the  whole  bent  of  education  was  to  awake  in  youth 
the  desire  for  military  glory.  I  examined  Otto  as 
to  the  method  which  was  employed  to  this  end. 
The  boys  were  taught  that  war  is  a  necessary  evil 
(at  least  an  evil — in  that  an  acknowledgment  of 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  179 

the  spirit  of  the  age),  but  at  the  same  time  the 
supreme  incentive  to  the  noblest  manly  virtues, 
which  are  courage,  endurance,  and  self-sacrifice; 
through  it  the  greatest  earthly  glory  can  be  ob- 
tained; and,  lastly,  it  is  the  most  important  factor 
in  the  progress  of  civilization.  The  mighty  con- 
querors and  founders  of  the  so-called  empires  of 
the  world,  as  Alexander,  Caesar,  Napoleon,  were 
commended  as  the  most  notable  examples  of 
human  greatness;  the  benefits  and  successes  of  war 
were  set  forth  in  most  laudatory  fashion,  while  the 
evils  resulting  therefrom  were  piously  ignored — 
such  as  the  moral  and  physical  degeneration,  the 
poverty  and  the  barbarism.  Yes,  it  was  the  same 
system  as  that  pursued  in  my  education  as  a  girl, 
and  which  then  filled  me  with  enthusiasm  for  war. 
Could  I  blame  a  boy  that  the  possibility  of  being 
ordered  into  the  field  filled  him  with  delight  and 
impatience? 

So  I  made  no  comment  when  one  day  Otto  com- 
plained of  the  present  inaction.  I  held  a  paper  in 
my  hand  from  which  I  had  been  reading. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  from  a  surgeon  who  accom- 
panied the  retreat  of  our  army;  shall  I  read  it?"  I 
asked. 

"The  retreat?"  cried  Otto;  "I  had  rather  not 
hear  it.  If  it  were  the  story  of  the  retreat  of  the 
enemy,  it  would  be  a  different  thing." 

"It  is  an  episode  of  war  that  we  are  accustomed 
to  pass  over  in  silence,"  remarked  Frederick. 

"  A  well  ordered  retreat  is  not  a  flight,"  my  father 
hastily  added.  "  Why,  in  '49 " 

But  I  knew  the  story  of  '49  and  headed  it  off  by 
beginning  to  read: 

"  About  four  o'clock  our  troops  began  to  retire.  We 
surgeons  were  absorbed  in  the  care  of  the  wounded — 
numbering  several  hundred — who  were  each  patiently 
waiting  their  turn.  Suddenly  the  cavalry  sprang  upon  us 
from  all  sides,  rushing  over  the  hill  and  across  the  field, 
and  at  the  same  moment  the  artillery  and  baggage- wagons 
joined  in  the  flight,  all  making  their  way  toward  K6"nig- 
gratz.  In  the  mad  rush  many  of  the  cavalry  stumbled, 


180  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

and  those  riders  who  fell  were  crushed  under  the  feet  of 
the  horses.  Wagons  were  overturned,  and  obstructed  the 
way  of  the  crowds  of  disordered  infantry.  We  were  swept 
from  our  temporary  field  of  work.  We  were  told,  at  the 
first  onslaught,  to  look  out  for  ourselves;  but  the  warning 
was  drowned  by  the  roar  of  cannon  and  the  bursting  of 
shells  right  incur  midst.  We  were  carried  forward  by  the 
surging  mass  without  knowing  where.  Suddenly  we  came 
to  water ;  to  the  right  was  a  railway  embankment,  to  the 
left  a  ravine  filled  with  wagons  and  ambulances;  behind, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  were  the  ranks  of  cavalry. 
We  waded  through  the  water,  and  a  moment  later  were 
ordered  to  cut  the  traces  and  abandon  the  wagons,  sav- 
ing the  horses,  but  leaving  the  wounded  to  their  fate. 
We  on  foot  were  on  the  verge  of  despair;  we  crossed 
other  streams  with  the  expectation  of  being  ridden  down 
and  drowned  at  any  moment.  Finally  we  reached  a  rail- 
way station  which  we  found  barricaded.  We  broke 
through  the  barricade,  and  with  thousands  of  infantry- 
men we  hurried  on  in  the  wildest  panic.  At  last,  at  one 
o'clock  at  night,  we  reached  a  little  wood,  where  we  sank 
on  the  ground  at  the  verge  of  utter  exhaustion.  At  three, 
wet  and  cold,  we  pressed  forward,  leaving  a  portion  of 
our  number  to  die  without  possibility  of  rescue.  The 
villages  were  abandoned,  not  a  human  being  was  left  in 
them ;  there  was  no  food,  no  water;  the  air  was  loaded 
with  pestilential  odors  from  decaying  corpses  lying  on 
the  trampled  wheatfields— bodies  with  blackened  faces, 
eyes  protruding  from  the  sockets " 

"Enough,  enough!"  cried  the  two  girls. 

"  The  censor  of  the  press  should  not  allow  the 
publication  of  such  stuff,"  exclaimed  my  father 
angrily.  "  It  takes  away  all  pride  in  the  profes- 
sion of  arms." 

"And  especially  all  joy  in  war  itself!  That  is 
really  a  pity,"  I  murmured  half-aloud. 

"  In  fact,  those  who  take  part  in  a  flight  should 
have  enough  self-respect  to  keep  quiet  about  it," 
scolded  my  father,  "for  it  is  certainly  no  honor  to 
join  in  a  general  'save  who  can.'  The  rascal  who 
cries,  'Look  out  for  yourself,'  gives  the  first  signal  for 
a  rout  and  ought  to  be  shot.  A  coward  yells  and 
thousands  of  brave  men  become  demoralized  and 
run  with  him." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  181 

"Exactly  so,"  responded  Frederick;  "just  as 
when  a  brave  fellow  shouts,  'Forward!'  a  thousand 
cowards  sweep  after  him  and  for  the  moment  are 
actually  inspired  with  courage.  You  cannot  clas- 
sify men  arbitrarily  as  courageous  or  cowardly; 
every  one  of  them  has  his  moments  of  more  or  less 
courage,  of  more  or  less  cowardice.  Among  masses 
of  men  each  one  is  in  a  measure  dependent  upon 
the  state  of  mind  of  his  fellows.  We  are  creatures 
who  herd  together  and  are  ruled  by  the  feelings  of 
the  herd.  One  shouts,  '  Hurrah! '  and  all  the  others 
follow  suit;  one  man  throws  down  his  rifle  to  run, 
others  imitate  his  example.  We  applaud  the  brave 
fellow  who  shouts,  'Hurrah!'  and  then  preserve 
silence  about  the  one  who  runs;  they  are  one  and 
the  same  man.  Courage  and  cowardice  are  not  to 
be  considered  personal  attributes,  but  as  condi- 
tions of  nature,  just  as  joy  and  sorrow  mark  two 
phases  of  sensibility.  During  my  first  campaign 
I  was  drawn  into  the  confusion  of  just  such  a  wild, 
unreasoning  flight.  In  the  official  reports  the  affair 
appears  as  a  well-ordered  retreat,  but  it  was  in 
truth  a  complete  rout.  Guns,  knapsacks,  cloaks, 
side  arms — everything  was  thrown  away  in  the 
wildest  confusion  by  a  raging,  rolling,  insane  mass; 
not  a  word  of  command  could  be  heard,  and  the 
battalions,  driven  by  despair,  tore  along  pursued  by 
the  equally  maddened  enemy.  Of  all  the  horrible 
phases  of  war,  this  is  the  worst — -it  has  the  most  of 
beastliness  about  it.  No  longer  as  gallant  soldiers, 
but  as  huntsmen  and  prey,  both  sides  assume  these 
most  barbaric  of  roles.  All  the  elements  of  the 
savage  hunter  are  developed  in  the  pursuer,  all  the 
delirium  of  terror  of  the  hunted  wild  beast  are 
seen  in  the  pursued.  Patriotism,  ambition,  thirst 
for  glory,  all  are  lost  in  the  most  powerful  impulse 
which  can  possess  the  living  animal,  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation." 

Frederick  improved  rapidly.  The  feverish  outer 
world  also  seemed  to  be  in  a  sounder  condition; 
daily  we  heard  more  and  more  of  peace.  The  ad- 


182  "GROUND  ARM  SI" 

vance  corps  of  the  Prussians,  which  no  longer  found 
any  obstacle  on  their  route,  and  which  slowly  and 
surely  approached  Vienna,  had  passed  through 
Briinn — whose  keys  had  been  handed  over  to  King 
William  by  the  civil  authorities.  This  march  as- 
sumed more  the  air  of  a  military  promenade  than 
an  offensive  campaign,  and  on  the  twenty-sixth 
of  July  a  truce  was  announced,  and  the  prelim- 
inaries of  peace  were  announced  at  Nikolsburg. 

The  only  comfort  my  father  found  in  the  general 
disaster  was  the  report  of  Admiral  Tegethoff's  vic- 
tory at  Lissa.  Italian  vessels  were  blown  into  the 
air,  the  "Affundatore"  was  destroyed;  what  a  satis- 
faction! I  could  not  join  in  the  general  rejoicing. 
Neither  could  I  understand  the  necessity  for  this 
naval  engagement,  as  Venice  had  already  been  sur- 
rendered. But  there  was  a  great  clamor  of  joy  in 
the  Vienna  press.  The  glory  of  a  martial  victory 
has  through  the  traditions  of  centuries  been  exalted 
to  such  magnitude  that  intense  national  pride  is 
roused  by  it.  If  in  any  case  a  general,  commanding 
our  own  countrymen,  defeats  another  general  at 
the  head  of  the  enemy,  all  our  fellow-citizens  con- 
gratulate one  another,  and  as  each  one  rejoices  the 
community  at  large  take  fire — the  herd  sentiment, 
as  Frederick  would  say. 

Another  political  event  of  those  days  was  that 
Austria  joined  the  Geneva  alliance  of  the  Red 
Cross. 

"Now,  are  you  satisfied?"  asked  my  father  as  he 
read  the  news  aloud.  "  Do  you  not  see  that  war, 
which  you  insist  is  barbarism,  with  advancing  civ- 
ilization becomes  more  humane.  I  am  in  favor  of 
all  these  humane  efforts  for  the  relief  of  the 
wounded;  even  from  the  standpoint  of  the  states- 
man it  is  wiser.  By  greater  care  of  the  wounded 
and  sick,  more  men  are  able  to  return  speedily  to 
the  field." 

"  You  are  right,  Papa,  as  useful  material  for 
future  wars.  But  the  things  which  I  have  seen  no 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  183 

Red  Cross  Legion  can  do  more  than  alleviate. 
Were  they  ten  times  the  number,  with  a  hundred 
times  the  means,  they  could  not  parry  the  misery 
which  one  battle  calls  into  being." 

Day  by  day  it  became  a  fixed  idea  with  me  that 
war  must  cease,  that  every  human  being  should  do 
what  he  could  to  educate  mankind  to  the  attain- 
ment of  this  end.  It  was  impossible  to  rid  myself 
of  the  scenes  I  had  witnessed  in  Bohemia.  Partic- 
ularly in  the  stillness  of  night,  I  would  wake  with 
this  anguish  oppressing  my  heart  and  this  feeling 
of  duty  pricking  my  conscience. 

Only  when  I  was  entirely  awake  did  I  begin  to 
realize  my  own  incapacity  to  stem  the  tide.  I 
could  as  easily  still  the  tides  and  hush  the  roar  of 
the  tempest-tossed  waters.  But  we  must  not  en- 
dure it!  It  must  be  stamped  out!  And  my  second 
thought  was — especially  when  I  heard  the  sound  of 
his  even  breathing — "  But  I  am  happy;  Frederick  is 
my  own  again,"  and  I  lost  myself  in  this  assurance, 
often  laying  my  arm  across  his  breast  and  softly 
kissing  him  on  the  lips. 

My  son  Rudolph  was  justified  in  being  intensely 
jealous  of  his  stepfather.  This  sentiment  had  been 
awakened  about  this  time  in  the  breast  of  the 
affectionate  child.  That  I  had  left  Grumitz  without 
any  leave-taking,  and  that  upon  my  return  he  was 
not  the  first  to  embrace  me — that  in  fact  I  shut  my- 
self up  the  entire  day  with  my  husband — all  this 
together  had  deeply  wounded  him.  One  morning 
he  threw  himself  into  my  arms  exclaiming: 

"  Mamma,  Mamma,  you  do  not  love  me  any 
more!  " 

"What  nonsense,  my  child;  what  do  you  mean?" 

"  Yes — now — only  Papa.  I — will  not — will  not 
grow  up  if  you  do  not  love  me  any  more — 

"Not  love  you  any  more?  You,  my  jewel!"  I 
petted  and  kissed  the  weeping  child.  "You,  my 
only  son,  my  pride,  the  hope  of  my  future!  I  love 
you  more — no,  not  above  everyone,  but  devotedly." 

After  this  occurrence  my  love  for  my  child  was 


184  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

more  often  demonstrated  to  his  satisfaction.  In 
the  terror  of  my  anxiety  for  Frederick  I  had  in 
truth  allowed  the  child's  interest  to  retreat  to  the 
background. 

We  had  well  considered  our  plans  for  the  future. 
At  the  close  of  the  war  Frederick  was  to  resign, 
and  we  would  retire  to  some  small  country  place 
where  his  pension  and  my  allowance  would  enable 
us  to  live  in  a  simple  way.  Frederick  determined 
to  take  up  the  study  of  international  law,  and  aside 
from  sentimental  theories  and  Utopian  ideas,  to 
master  from  the  practical  standpoint  the  question 
of  the  possibility  of  attaining  the  universal  peace 
of  nations. 

The  work  of  Buckle  had  first  suggested  a  new 
field  of  ideas.  Then  an  acquaintance,  through 
such  writers  as  Darwin  and  Biichner,  with  the 
latest  scientific  theories,  had  convinced  him  that 
the  world  stood  on  the  threshold  of  a  new  phase 
of  knowledge.  To  master  this  fresh  view  of  life 
and  matter  he  deemed  enough  to  fill  out  not  un- 
worthily, when  added  to  the  happiness  of  his  home, 
the  remainder  of  his  life.  Our  little  Rudolph  was 
not  shut  out  from  our  plans;  in  truth,  to  educate 
this  plastic  mind  was  to  become  the  main  duty  of 
our  lives.  We  had  learned  through  recent  events 
how  sympathetically  we  regarded  the  interests  of 
the  world  at  large,  and  we  rejoiced  over  the  pros- 
pect of  our  united  future  like  any  pair  of  youthful 
lovers. 

In  the  meantime  my  father,  to  whom  we  had 
not  confided  our  plans,  expressed  himself  one  day 
quite  differently. 

"You  will  be  a  young  colonel,  Tilling,  and  in 
ten  years  you  will  certainly  be  a  general.  Before 
that  time  another  war  will  break  out  and  you  may 
command  an  army  corps  or — who  knows? — reach 
the  rank  of  general-in-chief.  Perhaps  you  may 
have  the  fortune  to  restore  the  ancient  splendor 
of  Austria's  fame,  now  for  the  moment  tarnished. 
When  we  have  adopted  the  needle  gun,  or  perhaps 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  185 

introduced  a  still  more  effective  weapon,  Prussia 
must  lower  her  colors." 

"Who  knows?"  I  suggested,  "we  may  close  an 
alliance  with  Prussia." 

My  father  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"If  women  would  only  let  politics  alone!  "  he 
said  contemptuously.  "Our  honor  and  the  inter- 
ests of  Europe  demand  that  we  should  humble 
these  braggarts  and  help  those  recently  annexed 
states  to  attain  their  old  independence.  Friend- 
ship! alliance  with  these  wanton  offenders!  Never, 
unless  they  humbly  petition  for  it." 

"In  which  case,"  replied  Frederick,  "we  would 
set  foot  upon  their  necks.  Alliances  are  concluded 
only  with  those  of  whom  we  are  afraid,  or  when 
we  want  to  humble  a  common  foe.  In  statecraft, 
egoism  is  the  main  principle." 

"Well,  yes,"  my  father  acknowledged;  "when 
the  ego  represents  our  country,  all  other  interests 
must  be  subordinated  to  it." 

"We  can  but  wish,"  replied  Frederick,  "that  in 
the  consideration  of  the  common  weal  the  same 
spirit  might  prevail  which,  in  the  habits  of  the 
refined,  has  taken  the  place  of  the  rude  club-law 
egoism  of  the  individual.  We  might  hope  that  the 
idea  might  replace  it,  that  our  own  interests  are 
advanced  not  in  antagonisms,  but  in  a  union  with 
the  interests  of  others." 

"What's  that?"  said  my  father,  with  his  hand  on 
his  ear. 

Frederick  had  no  courage  to  repeat  his  long  sen- 
tence, and  the  discussion  came  to  an  end. 

I  will  be  in  Grumitz  at  one  o'clock  to-morrow. 

CONRAD. 

The  welcome  which  this  despatch  received  from 
Lilli  can  be  imagined.  No  other  guest  is  received 
with  such  gracious  and  loving  welcome  as  he  who 
returns  from  war.  In  this  case  certainly  it  would 
not  be  in  the  style  which  confronts  us  in  ballads 
and  engravings  entitled,  "  The  return  of  the  vie- 


186  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

tors."  The  natural  sentiment  of  the  affectionate 
girl  was  not  biased  by  patriotism,  and  Conrad's 
greeting  would  not  have  been  warmer  had  he  per- 
sonally captured  Berlin. 

Naturally  he  would  have  preferred  to  return  home 
with  victorious  troops,  if  he  had  aided  in  conquer- 
ing Silesia  for  his  emperor;  but  to  have  fought  at 
all  is  an  honor  for  a  soldier,  even  though  he  is  the 
vanquished — or  may  be  numbered  among  the  fallen, 
for  the  latter  fate  is  particularly  glorious.  Otto 
said  that  in  the  Vienna  Academy  the  names  of  all 
graduates  who  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  remain 
upon  the  field  are  inscribed  upon  a  roll  of  honor. 
7#/  a  I'ennemi,  as  they  say  in  France,  was  in  the 
time  of  our  ancestors,  and  is  even  at  the  present  day, 
especially  praiseworthy.  The  greater  the  number 
of  our  forefathers  who  fell  in  battle — no  matter 
whether  the  cause  was  won  or  lost — the  prouder 
becomes  their  descendant;  the  more  honorable  their 
record  in  this  respect,  the  less  value  should  their 
living  representative  place  upon  his  own  life.  To 
prove  oneself  worthy  of  ancestors  thus  killed  one 
must  both  actively  and  passively  rejoice  in  this  spe- 
cies of  massacre  itself. 

Well,  so  much  the  better,  that  so  long  as  wars 
endure  those  people  should  be  forthcoming  who 
actually  find  in  it  matter  for  emulation,  inspiration, 
even  for  enjoyment.  The  number  of  this  class  will 
grow  daily  less  and  less,  while  the  number  of  sol- 
diers continually  increases.  To  what  must  this 
finally  lead?  The  situation  will  simply  become  in- 
tolerable. 

And  to  what  will  this  intolerable  condition  lead? 

Conrad  did  not  pursue  the  idea  thus  far.  His 
comprehension  of  the  matter  was  quite  in  harmony 
with  the  well-known  song  of  the  lieutenant  in  the 
"White  Lady":  "  Ha!  what  joy  to  be  a  soldier,  ha! 
what  joy!"  To  listen  to  him  was  enough  to  make 
one  fairly  envy  him  the  delight  of  the  expedition. 
My  brother  Otto  was  completely  absorbed  in  admi- 
ration of  the  heroic  halo  encircling  this  warrior. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  187 

Baptized  in  blood  and  fire  (he  was  always  a  sol- 
dierly figure  in  his  hussar  uniform),  and  having 
passed  through  a  rain  of  bullets,  and  doubtless  hav- 
ing laid  many  an  adversary  low,  he  was  especially 
adorable,  particularly  with  the  addition  of  his  hon- 
orable scar  across  the  chin. 

"It  was  not  a  very  fortunate  campaign,  I  will 
admit,"  said  Conrad,  "but  I  brought  back  a  few 
memorable  experiences." 

"  Tell  us  about  it !  "  cried  Lilli  and  Otto. 

"  I  cannot  say  much  about  particular  incidents, 
the  whole  lies  behind  me  in  wild  confusion.  The 
powder  fairly  mounts  into  your  head.  In  truth, 
this  intoxication,  or  this  fever — this  martial  fire, 
in  a  word — begins  with  the  order  to  march.  The 
parting  from  your  sweetheart  is  hard — softens  the 
heart  a  bit — but  when  you  are  once  on  the  march, 
surrounded  by  your  comrades,  you  are  filled  with 
the  idea  of  the  highest  duty  which  life  can  demand 
of  man,  the  defense  of  your  native  land.  When 
the  bands  played  the  "  Radetzky  March,"  and  the 
silken  folds  of  our  flags  fluttered  in  the  breeze,  I 
would  not  have  turned  back  even  to  the  arms  of 
my  sweetheart.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  not  worthy  of 
this  love  if  I  did  not  do  my  duty  by  the  side  of  my 
brothers.  That  we  were  marching  to  victory  I  did 
not  doubt.  What  did  we  know  of  those  horrible 
needle  guns!  They  alone  were  the  cause  of  our 
defeat.  I  tell  you,  the  bullets  fell  upon  our  ranks 
like  hail.  And  we  suffered  from  bad  generalship; 
you  will  see  they  will  court-martial  Benedek  yet. 
We  ought  to  have  begun  the  attack.  If  I  had  been 
Field-marshal  my  tactics  would  have  been  to  attack, 
drive,  and  attack,  and  fall  upon  the  country  of  the 
enemy.  Defense  is  of  course  an  art  and  a  difficult 
one.  But  as  the  Emperor  did  not  appoint  me  to 
the  command,  I  am  innocent  of  the  failure  of  the 
tacticians.  The  generals  have  to  settle  it  with 
their  superiors  and  their  conscience.  We  subor- 
dinate officers  and  soldiers  have  done  our  duty;  we 
were  ordered  to  fight  and  we  have  fought.  That  of 


188  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

itself  is  a  peculiar  sensation.  To  stand  in  expecta- 
tion and  suspense  as  to  when  we  are  to  attack  the 
enemy,  waiting  for  the  order  to  begin;  this  con- 
sciousness that  in  a  moment  a  scene  in  the  world's 
history  is  to  be  played;  and  then,  the  pride,  the 
joy  in  one's  own  courage — death  to  the  right  and 
left  of  you,  the  great,  the  mysterious  unknowable, 
which  you  manfully  defy " 

"Just  like  poor  Gottfried  Tessow,"  murmured 
Frederick  to  me;  "it  is  to  be  expected,  it  is  the 
same  school." 

Conrad  continued  with  enthusiasm: 

"  The  heart  beats  higher,  the  pulse  rises,  and  then 
comes  the  peculiar  ecstasy. — the  love  of  battle 
wakes,  the  ferocity  of  hatred  of  the  enemy,  and 
the  burning  love  of  our  outraged  country, — and 
the  attack  and  hewing  down  become  a  delight. 
You  feel  as  if  you  had  been  transported  to  another 
world,  where  all  the  usual  sentiments  and  feelings 
had  been  metamorphosed.  Life  itself  becomes  the 
prey;  to  kill,  a  duty.  Honor,  heroism,  magnificent 
self-sacrifice  alone  remain,  all  other  sentiments 
are  lost  in  the  confusion.  Add  to  that  the  smoke 
of  powder,  the  cries  of  conflict, — I  tell  you  it  is  a 
situation  to  be  compared  with  nothing  else.  The 
nearest  to  it  is  when  one  is  fired  by  the  hunt  of  the 
tiger  or  lion  and  faces  the  maddened  beast." 

"Yes,"  said  Frederick.  "When  man  was  in  con- 
tinual danger  from  the  attacks  of  two-  and  four- 
legged  enemies,  and  could  enjoy  life  only  through 
their  destruction,  such  strife  was  a  delight.  When 
with  us  civilized  men  this  same  fierce  joy  riots  in 
our  blood,  it  is  but  an  inherited  reminiscence.  And 
as  we  in  Europe  have  now  neither  wild  beast  nor 
barbarians,  we  create  artificial  aggressors.  So  we 
say:  '  Look  here,  you  here  have  blue  coats  and  you 
on  the  other  side,  red  coats.'  Clap  your  hands  three 
times,  presto!  change  the  red  coats  into  tigers  and 
the  blue  coats  into  wild  beasts.  Again,  attention! 
one,  two,  three.  Trumpets,  blow;  drums,  beat;  now, 
begin;  eat  each  other  up.  Should  there  be  ten  thou- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  189 

sand,  possibly  in  these  times  a  hundred  thousand 
of  these  artificial  tigers  devoured  amidst  universal 

howls  of  combative  delight,  at  X ,  then  we  have 

in  history  the  famous  X battle.  The  magi- 
cians who  have  clapped  their  hands  assemble  round 
a  green  table  in  X ,  lay  down  their  maps,  re-ar- 
range boundaries,  pushing  them  here  and  there, 
squabble  over  who  shall  pay  the  costs,  sign  a  paper 

which  is  known  in  history  as  the  X treaty;  they 

clap  their  hands  three  times  more  and  order  the 
blue  and  the  red  coats:  '  Now,  my  children,  embrace 
as  men  and  brothers.'" 

Prussian  troops  were  quartered  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  Grumitz  might  any  day  expect  the  com- 
mon fate.  The  greatest  terror  of  the  hated  Prus- 
sians possessed  the  minds  of  the  villagers.  The 
very  name  of  the  enemy  becomes  in  time  of  war 
the  synonym  of  everything  evil,  so  that  the  people 
trembled  as  if  these  men  were  wolves  personified, 
when  the  Prussian  quartermaster  rode  down  the 
street  to  arrange  quarters  for  his  soldiers.  It  had 
occasionally  happened  that  a  Prussian  soldier  had 
been  shot  down  by  some  hidden  cowardly  assailant, 
who  for  this  had  been  dragged  out  and  summarily 
executed.  Of  course,  the  result  was  that  the  allot- 
ment was  quietly  accepted,  and  the  unwilling  hosts 
soon  discovered  that  these  hated  Prussians  were 
pretty  generally  a  good-natured,  friendly  lot,  who 
punctually  paid  their  bills. 

I  was  sitting  in  the  library  one  morning,  near  a 
window  which  commanded  a  wide  prospect.  Look- 
ing up  suddenly,  I  saw  in  the  distance  a  troop  of 
horse  evidently  coming  in  o'ur  direction.  I  seized 
a  field-glass  and  saw  a  detachment  of  possibly  ten 
horsemen  surrounding  a  figure  on  foot  in  hunting 
dress.  Who  could  this  be?  some  prisoner  who  had 
fired  upon  them?  There  was  small  hope  for  him  if 
this  was  the  case. 

I  ran  down  into  the  drawing-room  to  report  their 
approach  to  my  father  and  aunt.  The  latter  calmly 


190  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

remarked  that  she  must  see  the  housekeeper  on 
some  final  matters — they  had  for  days  anticipated 
the  arrival  of  the  enemy,  and  had  a  well-filled  lar- 
der and  numerous  beds  in  order. 

"The  Prussians,  the  Prussians  are  coming,"  I 
exclaimed  breathlessly.  We  are  always  delighted 
to  be  the  first  to  make  an  important  announcement. 

"The  devil  take  them,"  was  my  father's  inhospi- 
table exclamation. 

"Where  is  Otto?"  I  asked.  "He  must  know  of 
it  and  be  warned  to  restrain  the  expression  of  his 
hatred  of  Prussia.  He  must  treat  guests  with 
courtesy." 

"Otto  is  not  at  home,"  answered  my  father,  "he 
went  out  early  to  hunt  birds.  You  ought  to  have 
seen  how  becoming  his  hunting  suit  is  to  him — he 
is  going  to  be  a  handsome  fellow;  I  will  have  a 
deal  of  pride  in  him." 

In  the  meantime  there  seemed  some  disturbance 
in  the  house;  we  heard  excited  voices  and  hasty 
steps. 

"They  have  come,  the  wind-bags,"  sighed  my 
father. 

Franz,  the  footman,  white  with  terror,  forgetting 
all  discipline,  flew  into  the  room  shouting:  "The 
Prussians!"  in  the  same  tone  in  which  he  might 
announce  that  the  house  was  on  fire. 
.  "They  will  not  eat  us  up,"  responded  my  father 
snappishly. 

"But,  your  Excellence,"  gasped  Franz,  "they 
have  a  prisoner,  your  son,  who  is  said  to  have  fired 
on  them." 

My  father,  with  an  exclamation  of  alarm,  hastily 
left  the  room.  In  afe&  moments  he  returned  with 
Otto.  It  appeared  that  in  crossing  a  field  he  had 
stumbled  over  a  furrow  and  his  gun  had  gone  off. 
The  approaching  party  had  immediately  seized 
him,  but  having  learned  on  their  arrival  at  the  castle 
that  he  was  the  son  of  the  house,  and  a  cadet  from 
the  military  academy,  they  immediately  released 
him. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  191 

"It  would  be  impossible  to  suspect  an  honorable 
soldier  of  intention  to  commit  a  cowardly  murder," 
they  honestly  remarked. 

I  asked  Otto  if  he  was  really  innocent,  and  won- 
dered if  his  hatred  of  the  Prussians  might  not  have 
carried  him  so  far.  He  shook  his  head: 

"  I  will  have  opportunity  enough  in  my  life  to 
shoot  a  few  of  them,  but  not  without  offering  my 
own  breast  to  their  bullets." 

"Bravely  said,  my  boy! "  cried  my  father. 

I  could  not  share  this  delight.  All  these  phrases 
in  which  human  life  is  treated  as  so  insignificant 
and  is  so  boastfully  thrown  away,  had  to  me  an 
offensive  sound. 

Two  colonels  and  six  subordinate  officers,  with 
two  privates  as  guard,  were  quartered  upon  us,  and 
were  speedily,  with  all  due  courtesy,  directed  to 
their  rooms. 

I  can  remember  to  this  day  the  singular  impres- 
sion made  upon  me  as  I  entered  the  drawing-room 
that  evening.  Lori,  the  coquette  Lori,  had  arrived 
on  a  visit  from  Vienna,  and  the  opportunity  to  turn 
the  heads  of  a  few  of  even  the  hated  enemy  was  not 
to  be  despised.  She  had  made  herself  as  captivat- 
ing as  possible.  Lilli  would  naturally,  in  Conrad's 
presence,  omit  no  artificial  addition  to  her  attrac- 
tions, and  Rosa,  heartily  glad  to  see  a  few  cavaliers 
once  more,  had  on  a  light  colored  dress  which  did 
not  lessen  her  capacity  to  do  mischief.  I  alone,  re- 
garding the  time  of  war  as  a  time  of  mourning, 
wore  a  black  gown. 

What  a  contrast  all  this  was — these  beautifully 
dressed  women,  these  brilliant  uniforms — to  the 
scenes  of  sorrow,  anguish,  and  terror  witnessed  so 
short  a  time  before.  It  is  always  the  brilliant,  the 
merry,  and  the  high  in  social  rank  who  bring  about 
all  this  trouble;  it  is  they  who  use  it  as  a  means  of 
self-glorification,  and  by  their  decorations  and  glit- 
tering orders  distinguish  themselves  as  the  sup- 
porters of  the  whole  miserable  system. 


192  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

My  entrance  broke  up  the  various  groups  into 
which  the  company  had  gathered,  and  the  Prussian 
guests  were  severally  introduced  to  me.  Distin- 
guished names  they  bore,  ending  in  "ow"  and 
''witz";  also  many  a  "von"  and  even  a  prince — 
Prince  Henry,  of  the  house  of  Reuss. 

So  these  were  our  enemies!  courtly  gentlemen 
with  the  most  approved  conventional  society  man- 
ners. It  is  true  that  in  these  days  we  do  not  war 
with  Huns  and  Vandals,  but  it  is  a  little  hard  to 
remember  that  the  other  side  represents  the  same 
civilization  as  our  own. 

"  God,  who  art  the  support  of  those  who  trust  in 
Thee,  hear  us  who  appeal  to  Thy  compassion,  and 
through  the  might  of  Thy  protection  defend  us 
from  the  rage  of  the  enemy  that  we  may  praise 
Thee  to  all  eternity." 

That  was  the  way  the  Grumitz  pastor  prayed 
every  Sunday.  How  was  it  possible  for  his  con- 
gregation to  picture  to  themselves  this  wrathful 
enemy?  Certainly  not  with  the  manners  of  these 
elegant  gentlemen  who  led  these  ladies  out  to 
dinner  in  such  graceful  fashion.  Then  it  was  to 
be  remembered  that  God  this  time  had  heard 
the  prayers  of  the  other  side,  and  suppressed  our 
wrath;  we  were  the  murderous,  raging  enemy  who 
through  the  might  of  Divine  protection  (we  thought 
it  was  the  needle  gun  which  had  done  it)  had  been 
hurled  down,  and  they  would  offer  thanks  to  all 
eternity — what  a  saintly  contradiction! 

These  were  my  thoughts  as  I  looked  across  the 
table  decorated  with  fruit  and  flowers,  and  ob- 
served the  conversation  and  manners  of  all  about 
me.  I  sat  between  a  stately  colonel  and  a  slender 
lieutenant.  Lilli,  naturally,  was  next  to  Conrad, 
and  Rosa  had  as  attendant  Prince  Henry;  the  ma- 
licious Lori  had  captured  Frederick.  All  mention 
of  the  war  was  carefully  avoided,  and  the  strangers 
acted  as  if  they  were  guests  traveling  for  pleasure. 
My  young  lieutenant  paid  assiduous  court  to  me; 
he  assured  me  that  Austria  was  the  most  delightful 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  193 

country  in  the  world,  and  its  women  the  most 
charming.  I  do  not  deny  that  I  flirted  a  little;  it 
was  just  as  well  to  let  Lori  Griesbach  and  her 
neighbor  understand  that  I  knew  how  to  revenge 
myself.  It  would  have  been  more  to  the  purpose, 
however,  if  my  lieutenant  had  directed  his  killing 
glances  in  Lori's  direction,  where  they  would  have 
been  better  appreciated.  Conrad  and  Lilli  in  their 
province  as  acknowledged  lovers  (such  people 
ought  to  be  caged)  whispered  and  went  through 
all  the  conventional  turtle-dove  maneuvers.  I  be- 
gan soon  to  suspect  a  third  flirtation,  for  Prince 
Henry's  countenance  expressed  unalloyed  admira- 
tion of  my  sister  Rosa. 

After  dinner  we  returned  to  the  drawing-room, 
now  brilliantly  illuminated.  The  door  leading  to 
the  terrace  stood  open.  The  soft  summer  night 
was  flooded  with  mellow  moonlight.  The  queen 
of  night  threw  her  beams  over  the  hay-scented 
sward  of  the  park  and  mirrored  herself,  sparkling 
like  silver,  in  the  lake  beyond. 

Was  that  really  the  same  moon  by  whose  light  I 
had  so  lately  seen  the  mouldering  corpses  piled  up 
against  the  churchyard  wall?  Were  these  the  same 
men — one  of  the  Prussian  officers  opened  the  piano 
at  this  moment  to  play  one  of  Mendelssohn's  Songs 
Without  Words — were  these  the  same  who  so  lately, 
saber  in  hand,  cut  open  the  heads  of  those  other 
men? 

After  a  while  Prince  Henry  and  Rosa  came  out. 
They  did  not  notice  me  in  my  dark  corner  as  they 
passed  near  me.  It  seemed  to  me  the  young  Prus- 
sian— our  enemy — held  Rosa's  hand  in  his  own. 
They  spoke  softly,  and  I  could  only  now  and  then 

catch  a  word.  "It  is  fate do  not  say  no do 

you  detest  me?"  Rosa  shook  her  head.  He  lifted 
her  hand  to  his  lips  and  endeavored  to  draw  her  to 
him.  She,  the  well-bred  young  woman,  drew  back 
quickly. 

Oh,  I  had  been  much  better  pleased  if  the  soft 
moonlight  had  witnessed  a  lover's  kiss.  After  all 


194  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

the  evidences  of  hate  and  bitterest  misery,  which  I 
had  lately  seen,  such  a  scene  of  love  and  pure  de- 
light would  have  seemed  some  compensation. 

"Ah!  is  that  you,  Martha?"  exclaimed  Rosa, 
suddenly  aware  of  my  presence. 

The  Prince  was  much  embarrassed.  He  stepped 
up  to  me. 

"I  have  offered  my  hand  to  your  sister,  dear 
Madame.  I  hope  you  will  say  a  good  word  for  me. 
My  conduct  may  seem  rash  and  bold.  At  another 
time  I  might  have  been  more  modest  and  consid- 
erate— but  in  the  last  few  weeks  I  have  accustomed 
myself  to  quick  and  decisive  measures — no  dally- 
ing or  hesitation  was  allowed — and  what  I  have 
learned  in  war  I  have  involuntarily  applied  in  love. 
Forgive  me  and  be  my  friend.  You  are  silent, 
Countess.  Do  you  refuse  my  hand?" 

"  My  sister  cannot  so  rashly  decide  her  fate,"  I 
said,  coming  to  Rosa's  aid.  "  Whether  our  father 
will  give  his  consent  to  a  marriage  with  an  enemy 
or  whether  Rosa  can  return  an  attachment  so  sud- 
denly announced,  who  can  tell  to-day?" 

"  I  know  I  can,"  she  answered,  holding  out  both 
hands  to  the  young  man! 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"O,  you  foolish  children!"  I  said,  and  softly 
moved  away  to  the  door  in  order  to  watch  that — 
at  least  just  at  this  moment — no  one  should  come 
out. 

On  the  following  morning  the  engagement  was 
announced. 

My  father  made  no  objection.  I  had  believed 
that  his  hatred  of  Prussia  would  make  it  impos- 
sible for  him  to  admit  to  his  family  one  of  the  vic- 
torious enemy;  but  it  seemed  that  he  separated 
the  individual  from  the  national  question.  This  is 
a  popular  custom.  "  I  hate  them  as  a  nation,  not  as 
individuals,"  one  hears  repeatedly,  although  the 
remark  is  no  more  sensible  than  if  we  were  to  say: 
"  I  hate  wine  as  a  drink,  but  swallow  every  drop 
willingly."  But  it  is  not  necessary  that  such  cur- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  195 

rent  phrases  should  be  sensible,  quite  the  contrary. 
Perhaps  gratified  pride  got  the  upper  hand,  for  a 
connection  with  the  princely  house  of  Reuss  was 
in  every  way  desirable;  possibly  the  romantic  sud- 
denness of  the  love  of  the  young  people  touched 
him.  At  any  rate,  he  gave  a  willing  consent.  Aunt 
Marie  was  not  so  easily  reconciled. 

"Impossible,"  she  exclaimed,  "the  Prince  is  a 
Lutheran." 

She  finally  consoled  herself  with  the  reflection 
that  Rosa  would  probably  convert  him. 

Otto  rebelled  the  most.  "  How  would  it  be  if, 
when  war  breaks  out  again,  I  am  obliged  to  drive 
my  brother-in-law  out  of  the  country?" 

But  at  last  the  famous  theory  of  the  difference 
between  nation  and  individual  was  explained  to 
him,  and,  to  my  astonishment,  for  I  never  could 
grasp  it,  he  understood  it. 

How  quickly  and  easily  one  forgets  past  sorrow 
in  happy  surroundings.  Gradually  the  fearful 
scenes  of  the  past  few  weeks  passed  from  my  mind. 
I  realized,  not  without  a  twinge  of  conscience  occa- 
sionally, that  my  passionate  sympathy  had  some- 
what melted  away.  From  the  outside  world  one 
heard  many  a  sorrowful  echo:  the  lamentations  of 
people  who  had  lost  in  the  war  all  their  fortune  and 
all  their  friends;  reports  of  probable  financial  catas- 
trophe; or  rumors  of  an  outbreak  of  the  cholera, 
which  had  made  its  appearance  among  the  Prus- 
sian troops.  One  case  had  occurred  in  our  village. 
"It  is  probably  nothing  serious,"  we  comfort  our- 
selves by  saying,  when  disagreeable  probabilities  are 
suggested.  To  drive  everything  unpleasant  from 
our  thoughts,  by  "  It  is  of  no  consequence,"  or 
"That  is  all  over,"  or  "There  is  nothing  in  it,"  is 
all  so  easy,  and  we  utter  the  words  with  a  toss  of 
the  head. 

"  Do  you  know,  Martha,"  said  Rosa  one  day, 
"this  war  was  certainly  something  terrible,  but  I 
could  bless  it.  Without  it  I  should  never  have  been 


196  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

so  happy  as  I  am  now.  Should  I  ever  have  known 
Henry?  and  he — would  he  have  found  such  a  loving 
wife?" 

"  Really,  Rosa,  I  will  make  this  suggestion:  it  is 
possible  your  two  happy  hearts  may  weigh  in  the 
balance  against  the  many  thousand  broken  ones." 

"  One  must  not  think  of  the  fate  of  individuals. 
In  the  case  of  the  nation,  war  brings  to  the  victors  a 
great  gain.  You  ought  to  hear  Henry  talk  about 
it.  He  says,  Prussia  has  won  a  grand  position;  in 
the  army  general  enthusiasm  prevails,  and  a  senti- 
ment of  universal  gratitude  and  love  for  the  field- 
marshals  who  have  led  it  to  victory  and  thereby 
improved  the  general  condition  of  trade — and  the 
historical  mission —  oh,  I  can't  tell  you  exactly  all 
he  says.  You  ought  to  hear  him." 

"  Why  does  not  Prince  Henry  talk  rather  of  your 
love  than  of  political  and  military  affairs? " 

"  Oh,  we  talk  about  everything — and  all  he  says 
is  music  in  my  ears.  I  can  sympathize  with  his 
feeling  that  he  is  proud  and  happy  to  have  had  a 
part  in  this  war  for  his  country." 

"  And  as  booty  means  to  carry  back  such  a  pretty 
wife,"  I  replied. 

My  father  was  well  pleased  with  his  future  son- 
in-law  (who  would  not  be  pleased  with  the  fine 
young  fellow?)  He  dispensed  his  blessing  and  his 
sympathy  with  certain  qualifications  and  conditions. 

"  You  are  worthy  of  all  esteem  as  a  man,  soldier, 
and  prince,"  he  would  expound  to  him  repeatedly, 
"  but  as  a  Prussian  officer  I  cannot  endure  you,  and 
I  retain  the  right,  notwithstanding  future  family 
relationship,  to  wish  nothing  so  earnestly  as  a  war 
in  which  Austria  may  amply  revenge  herself  for 
this  late  humiliation.  Political  questions  are  en- 
tirely distinct  from  personal  ones.  My  son  Otto 
will  sometime — I  pray  God  that  I  may  live  to  see 
it! — go  into  the  field  against  Prussia.  Old  as  I  am, 
if  my  emperor  desired,  I  would  also  accept  a  com- 
mand to  humble  William  I.  and  your  arrogant 
Bismarck.  I  acknowledge  the  military  virtues  of 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  197 

the  Prussian  army  and  the  strategic  skill  of  its 
leaders,  and  I  should  consider  it  perfectly  natural 
if  you,  in  the  next  campaign,  were  compelled,  at 
the  head  of  your  battalion,  to  storm  our  capital  and 
set  fire  to  the  house  in  which  your  father-in-law 
lives;  in  short " 

"In  short  the  confusion  of  sentiments  is  fright- 
ful," I  interrupted  him  upon  one  occasion.  "Con- 
tradictions of  all  sorts  are  inextricably  mixed,  like 
the  infusoria  in  a  drop  of  foul  water.  To  hate  the 
whole  and  love  a  part,  to  consider  one  first  as  a 
man  and  next  as  a  representative  of  his  country — 
it  will  not  do.  I  prefer  the  custom  of  the  savage 
Indian  who  never  heard  of  anybody  as  an  'indi- 
vidual.' He  only  wants  to  scalp  every  man  of  the 
other  tribe." 

"  But  Martha,  my  child,  such  savage  sentiments 
are  unworthy  the  refined  and  humane  condition  of 
our  civilization." 

"  Say  rather,  the  character  of  our  civilization  is 
not  consistent  with  the  inherited  barbarism  of  an- 
cient times.  So  long  as  the  spirit  of  war  is  not 
shaken  off,  our  much  vaunted  humanity  has  no 
common  sense  standpoint.  You  will  scarcely  call 
your  last  assertions  sensible,  when  you  assure 
Prince  Henry  in  one  breath  that  you  love  him  as  a 
son-in-law  and  hate  him  as  a  Prussian,  value  him 
as  a  man  and  abominate  him  as  lieutenant-colonel; 
that  you  will  gladly  give  him  your  blessing  as  a 
father  and  at  the  same  moment  grant  his  right  to 
shoot  you  down  if  convenient.  Forgive  me,  Father, 
you  will  scarcely  call  such  talk  common  sense." 

"  What  do  you  say?  I  do  not  understand  a 
word." 

The  convenient  deafness  had  come  upon  him 
again. 

After  a  few  days  it  was  again  quiet  in  Grumitz. 
Our  guests  departed.  It  was  decided  that  the 
marriage  of  my  sister  should  take  place  in  October. 
Prince  Henry  expected  to  retire  from  the  service, 


198  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

which  he  could  honorably  do  after  so  glorious  a 
campaign,  in  which  he  had  taken  an  active  part. 
The  four  parted  secure  of  future  happiness. 

How  can  one  be  confident  of  happiness,  in  times 
of  war  least  of  all?  Misfortune  then  hovers  over 
us  dense  as  swarms  of  gnats  buzzing  in  the  sun,  and 
the  chance  of  standing  aside  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  impending  scourge  is  but  small. 

Certainly  the  war  was  over.  That  is,  peace  had 
been  declared.  A  word  had  been  enough  to  let 
loose  all  war's  terrors,  and  it  was  believed  a  word 
would  again  be  enough  to  relieve  us  from  its 
results.  Hostilities  were  suspended  but  malign 
influences  continued.  The  seeds  of  future  wars 
were  scattered  and  the  fruits  of  the  war  just  ended 
rapidly  ripened  in  want,  demoralization,  and  pesti- 
lence. One  might  protest  in  vain  and  decline  to 
think;  it  was  useless,  the  cholera  raged  throughout 
the  country. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth  of  August  when  I 
opened  the  paper  at  breakfast,  the  first  thing  my 
eye  fell  upon  was  the  report  from  Vienna: 

"  Cases  of  cholera  increase  rapidly;  the  civil  as  well  as 
military  hospitals  have  reported  many  cases  of  the  gen- 
uine Asiatic  type,  and  most  energetic  measures  have  been 
taken  to  prevent  the  disease  becoming  epidemic." 

I  was  about  to  read  the  despatch  aloud  when 
Aunt  Marie  exclaimed,  holding  up  a  letter  written 
by  a  friend  on  a  neighboring  estate: 

"Dreadful!  Betty  writes  that  two  people  have 
died  of  cholera  in  her  house  and  that  her  husband 
is  very  ill." 

"Excellence,  the  school  teacher  wishes  to  speak 
to  you,"  the  servant  announced. 

The  teacher  came  in  close  upon  the  heels  of  the 
speaker. 

"Count  Althaus,  I  come  to  report  that  I  have 
closed  the  village  school.  Yesterday  two  children 
were  taken  with  the  cholera,  and  to-day  they  are 
dead." 

"The  cholera?"  we  exclaimed. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  199 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  it.  The  doctor  who  has 
been  sent  from  the  city  says  that  it  has  become 
epidemic." 

We  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay.  Here  it 
was  again,  our  frightful  enemy,  death,  and  each  of 
us  saw  his  skeleton  hand  stretched  over  the  head 
of  some  one  we  loved. 

"We  must  go  away!  "  said  Aunt  Marie. 

"  Where?"  replied  the  teacher.  "  Everywhere  the 
disease  is  spreading." 

"Across  the  frontier." 

"Quarantine  will  be  established.  That  will  not 
be  possible." 

"That  would  be  horrible.  They  will  not  prevent 
people  flying  from  the  region  of  pestilence? " 

"  Certainly.  Healthy  communities  will  not  toler- 
ate the  spread  of  the  disease  within  their  borders." 

"  Then  God's  will  be  done,"  exclaimed  my  father 
with  a  deep  sigh.  "  You  are  usually  so  firm  a  be- 
liever in  destiny,  Marie,  I  cannot  understand  your 
wish  to  run  away.  The  fate  of  every  one  will  reach 
him  wherever  he  is,  you  say.  But  still  I  would 
much  rather  you  and  the  children  should  go  away 
— and  Otto,  you  must  eat  no  more  fruit." 

"I  will  despatch  to  Bresser,"  said  Frederick,  "to 
send  us  the  means  for  disinfection." 

Later  events  I  cannot  minutely  describe,  for  the 
episode  at  breakfast  was  the  only  one  I  transferred 
to  my  note-book.  I  can  only  report  from  memory 
the  incidents  of  the  days  immediately  following. 
Terror  and  dread  oppressed  us  all.  Who  does  not 
tremble  in  times  of  epidemic,  when  all  we  love  are 
in  danger?  Above  every  loved  head  hangs  a  sword 
of  Damocles,  and  one  does  not  willingly  die — so 
needlessly  and  fearfully.  Courage  consists  alone 
in  the  ability  to  desist  from  thought. 

Flee?  This  idea  took  possession  of  me  on  ac- 
count of  my  little  Rudolph.  My  father  insisted 
upon  the  family  leaving  the  castle.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  he  decided  that  the  family  must  depart. 
He  meant  to  remain  himself,  not  being  willing  to 


SOO  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

leave  his  servants  and  the  villagers  to  face  the 
danger  alone.  Frederick  declared  he  would  remain 
also,  and  I  would  not  leave  his  side. 

Aunt  Marie  was  to  go  with  the  two  girls,  and 
Otto  and  Rudolph.  Where?  that  was  not  yet  de- 
termined; at  the  outset  to  Hungary.  The  young 
women  busied  themselves  anxiously  and  hurriedly 
with  the  preparations.  Die!  just  when  happiness 
was  promised  in  the  near  future — that  would  be  a 
tenfold  death. 

The  boxes  were  brought  into  the  dining-room 
to  hasten  the  work  of  packing.  I  brought  a  bundle 
of  Rudolph's  clothes  upon  my  arm. 

"Why  does  not  your  maid  do  that?"  asked  my 
father. 

"  I  do  not  know  where  Netti  is  hiding;  I  rang 
several  times  and  she  does  not  come.  I  thought  it 
was  better  to  bring  them  myself." 

"  You  spoil  all  your  servants,"  said  my  father 
angrily,  and  he  ordered  a  servant  standing  near  to 
hunt  up  the  girl. 

In  a  short  time  he  returned  with  an  anxious 
countenance. 

"  The — Netti  is  in  bed  in  her  room.  She  is — 
she  has — she  is " 

"Why  do  you  not  speak?"  scolded  my  father. 
"What  is  she?" 

"She  is  already  quite  black." 

A  shriek  came  from  all  lips.  So  it  was  among 
us — this  horrible  plague — in  our  own  house. 

What  was  to  be  done?  The  unfortunate  girl 
must  not  be  left  to  die  alone.  But  whoever  ap- 
proached her  sought  certain  death,  not  only  for 
himself,  but  for  all  others  whom  he  might  after- 
wards approach.  A  house  in  such  a  strait  is  as  if 
surrounded  by  bandits,  or  as  if  in  flames,  with  no 
means  of  escape  for  the  inmates.  Everywhere, 
from  every  nook  and  corner — following  upon  every 
step  and  act — death  stared  upon  us. 

"  Bring  the  doctor  at  once,"  my  father  ordered. 
"And  you  children  hasten  your  departure." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  201 

"The  doctor  returned  to  town  an  hour  ago," 
answered  the  servant. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  ill!"  exclaimed  Lilli,  who  had 
grown  deathly  pale  as  she  sank  upon  the  sofa. 

We  sprang  to  her  aid. 

"  What  ails  you?  You  are  silly,  it  is  nothing  but 
anxiety."  . 

But  it  was  not  anxiety,  it  was — no  doubt — we 
dared  not  think,  but  hurried  her  to  her  room,  where 
she  was  at  once  seized  with  all  the  most  aggra- 
vated symptoms  of  the  dread  disease.  This  was 
the  second  case  of  cholera  in  one  day  at  the  castle. 

It  was  frightful  to  see  what  the  poor  sister  suf- 
fered— and  no  doctor  to  be  found.  Frederick  was 
the  best  adapted  to  supply  his  place,  and  he  ordered 
all  the  well-known  remedies,  warm  flannels,  broken 
ice,  champagne.  Nothing  was  of  any  avail.  These 
means,  well  adapted  to  light  cases,  were  of  no  serv- 
ice here.  Cramps  of  the  whole  body  set  in  which 
seemed  to  make  even  the  bones  crack.  The  un- 
happy girl  could  not  utter  a  sound,  her  voice  failed, 
the  skin  became  blue  and  cold,  the  breathing  grew 
difficult. 

My  father  walked  up  and  down  wringing  his 
hands.  Once  I  stopped  him  and  said  gloomily: 

"This  is  the  result  of  war,  Father!  Will  you 
not  curse  war  now?" 

He  shook  me  off  without  a  reply. 

After  ten  hours  of  suffering  Lilli  was  dead. 
Netti,  my  maid,  had  died  alone  in  her  room;  we 
were  all  busied  with  Lilli,  and  none  of  the  servants 
would  go  near  her. 

In  the  meantime  Doctor  Bresser  arrived  and  as- 
sumed control  of  the  house.  He  brought  all  new 
means  of  relief.  I  could  have  kissed  his  hand 
when  the  old  friend  stood  so  unexpectedly  in  our 
midst,  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  to  our  welfare. 
The  two  bodies  were  carried  to  a  distant  chamber, 
the  rooms  lately  occupied  by  them  were  locked,  and 
the  strictest  measures  were  taken  for  the  safety  of 
the  other  members  of  the  family.  An  intense  odor 


202  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

of  carbolic  acid  filled  the  house,  and  to  this  day 
this  smell  brings  back  to  memory  all  the  events  of 
that  terrible  time. 

The  flight  was  attempted  a  second  time.  The 
day  after  Lilli's  death  the  carriage  stood  at  the 
door  which  was  to  carry  Aunt  Marie,  Rosa,  Otto, 
and  my  little  one,  when  the  coachman  dismounted 
from  the  box  and  declared  himself  unable  to  drive. 

"  I  will  drive  you  myself,"  said  my  father.  "Quick 
— is  everything  ready?  " 

Rosa  stepped  back. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said,  "  I  must  remain ;  I  shall  follow 
Lilli." 

And  she  was  right.  By  daybreak  of  the  second 
day  her  body  was  carried  to  the  vault. 

Of  course  flight  was  no  longer  thought  of  for  a 
moment. 

Even  in  my  agony  I  was  seized  with  the  deepest 
scorn  of  the  gigantic  folly  which  had  voluntarily 
brought  about  all  this  misery.  As  Rosa's  body 
was  carried  from  her  chamber  my  father  sank  on 
his  knees,  his  head  against  the  wall. 

I  seized  him  fiercely  by  the  arm.  "  Father,"  I 
cried,  "  that  is  war!  " 

No  answer. 

"  Father,  do  you  hear?  Now  will  you  not  curse 
war? " 

He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"You  remind  me  of  my  duty;  this  misfortune 
must  be  endured  with  a  soldier's  courage.  Not  I 
alone;  the  whole  country  brings  its  offering  of 
tears  and  blood." 

"  What  advantage  has  your  suffering  and  that  of 
your  brothers  been  to  our  country?  What  gain  to 
it  the  lost  battles,  the  shortened  lives  of  your  two 
children?  Father,  I  implore  you,  if  you  love  me, 
curse  war.  See  there,"  I  drew  him  to  the  window 
where  a  hearse  had  rolled  into  the  court;  "see,  that 
is  for  our  Lilli,  and  to-morrow  it  will  come  for 
Rosa,  and  day  after  to-morrow  perhaps  for  a  third, 
and  why,  why?" 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  203 

"  Because  God  wills  it,  my  child." 

"God — always  God?  All  folly,  all  barbarity,  all 
the  mad  violence  of  the  human  being  hides  behind 
this  shield:  '  God  wills  it.'  " 

"Do  not  blaspheme,  Martha,  not  now  when 
God's  reproving  hand  is  so  clearly  seen." 

I  had  written  to  Conrad:  "Lilli  is  sick. ' 

Four  days  later  he  entered  the  house. 

"  Lilli,"  he  cried,  "  is  it  true?  " 

We  nodded. 

He  remained  profoundly  quiet,  without  shedding 
a  tear.  "  I  have  loved  her  many  years,"  he  said 
softly  to  himself. 

"Where  is  she — in  the  churchyard?  I  will  go 
there.  Farewell,  she  must  expect  me." 

"Shall  I  go  with  you?"  some  one  asked. 

"No,  I  had  rather  be  alone." 

He  went  out — we  never  saw  him  again.  He  shot 
himself  on  Lilli's  grave. 

At  any  other  time  the  full  realization  of  this 
tragedy  would  have  been  more  overpowering.  But 
at  the  moment  it  was  announced  the  hope  and 
pride  of  my  father's  heart,  my  brother  Otto,  was 
attacked  with  the  dread  disease.  No  efforts  could 
save  him,  and  at  seven  o'clock  of  the  following 
evening  all  was  over. 

My  father  threw  himself  down  by  the  body  with 
a  heart-breaking  cry  which  resounded  through  the 
house.  With  difficulty  we  dragged  him  away,  and 
for  hours  his  despair  was  terrible  to  witness.  Upon 
this  outbreak  followed  stolid  apathy,  and  he  lay 
upon  a  couch  motionless  and  almost  unconscious. 
Doctor  Bresser  ordered  that  he  be  carried  to  his 
bed. 

After  an  hour  he  seemed  to  rouse  himself.  Aunt 
Marie,  Frederick,  and  I  were  at  his  side.  He 
glanced  about,  then  sat  up  and  tried  to  speak.  He 
could  not  utter  a  word  and  struggled  for  breath. 
Finally  he  murmured  "Martha." 

I  fell  on  my  knees  at  the  side  of  the  bed. 


204  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  Father,  my  poor,  dear  father!  " 

He  lifted  his  hand  over  my  head.  "Your  wish," 
he  gasped  painfully.  "  I  curse — I  curse " 

He  could  not  finish,  and  fell  back  upon  the  pil- 
lows. 

Doctor  Bresser  anxiously  leaned  over  him.  He 
was  dead. 

"The  most  dreadful  thing  about  it  is,"  said  Aunt 
Marie,  after  we  had  buried  him,  "  that  he  died  with 
a  curse  upon  his  lips." 

"Be  comforted,"  I  said  to  her.  "If  this  curse 
fell  from  the  lips  of  all  mankind  it  would  be  the 
greatest  blessing  to  humanity." 

Such  was  the  cholera  week  in  Grumitz.  In  seven 
days  ten  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  castle  had  been 
carried  away:  my  father,  Lilli,  Rosa,  Otto,  my  maid 
Netti,  the  cook,  the  coachman,  and  two  of  the  sta- 
blemen. In  the  village  they  had  buried  eighty 
persons. 

When  one  speaks  of  it  in  this  cold  way  it  sounds 
like  a  statistical  report;  when  it  is  written  in  a 
book  it  looks  like  an  extravagant  phantasy  of  the 
author.  But  it  is  neither  so  dry  a  fact  as  the  one 
nor  so  sentimentally  terrible  as  the  other;  it  is  cold, 
frightful,  heart-breaking  reality.  The  annals  of  the 
time  show  a  similar  condition  in  all  those  localities 
where  the  Prussians  had  been  quartered. 

We  spent  the  remainder  of  the  summer  in 
Geneva. 

It  was  through  Doctor  Bresser's  urging  that  we 
fled  from  the  scene  of  so  much  sorrow.  At  first  I 
apathetically  refused  to  leave  the  place  where  all 
my  dead  lay  buried,  but  Bresser  appealed  to  my 
mother  love  for  my  little  Rudolph,  who  must  be 
removed  as  much  as  possible  from  the  danger  of 
contagion. 

We  chose  Switzerland  as  a  place  of  refuge  by 
Frederick's  special  wish,  as  he  desired  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  men  who  had  organized  the 
"  Red  Cross,"  and  to  be  better  informed  as  to  the 
object  of  the  association. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  205 

Frederick  had  sent  in  the  resignation  of  his  com- 
mission and  now  only  awaited  its  acceptance.  His 
leave  of  absence  would  cover  our  six  months'  visit. 
I  was  now  rich — very  rich.  The  death  of  my 
father,  brother,  and  sisters  left  me  the  entire  family 
estate. 

"  See  here,"  I  said  to  Frederick,  as  the  notary 
transferred  the  deeds  to  me.  "What  would  you 
say  if  I  should  regard  war  as  a  benefit  because  of 
the  advantage  its  results  have  brought  to  me? " 

"You  would  not  be  my  Martha!  But  I  under- 
stand what  you  mean;  you  are  thinking  of  the 
heartless  egotism  which  will  rejoice  over  material 
prosperity  won  by  the  destruction  of  others;  those 
who  feel  it  are  careful  to  conceal  it,  while  nations 
and  dynasties  openly  and  proudly  acknowledge  it. 
Thousands  have  gone  down  in  irretrievable  ruin, 
but  we  have  won  territory  and  power,  therefore 
Heaven  be  praised  for  fortunate  war." 

We  lived  in  absolute  retirement  in  a  little  villa 
on  the  shore  of  the  lake.  I  was  so  overwhelmed 
by  the  experiences  of  preceding  events  that  I  could 
not  endure  the  society  of  strangers.  I  owed  it  to 
my  Grumitz  graves — that  my  tender-hearted  hus- 
band realized — to  be  allowed  to  weep  out  my  sor- 
row in  quietude.  Those  torn  so  mercilessly  from 
the  beautiful  world  should  have  some  little  time 
allotted  them  in  the  memory  of  one  whose  sorrow- 
ful heart  had  been  so  suddenly  and  coldly  robbed 
of  them. 

Frederick  himself  went  often  into  the  city  to 
pursue  the  object  of  his  sojourn — the  study  of  the 
system  of  the  Red  Cross. 

Of  the  result  of  this  study  I  have  now  no  report, 
as  at  that  time  I  dropped  the  notes  in  my  diary. 
Only  one  impression  remained  as  produced  by  my 
entire  environment:  the  quiet,  the  content,  the 
cheerful  temper  of  all  whom  I  met — as  if  we  all 
lived  in  the  happiest  of  times.  Scarce  an  echo  was 
heard  of  the  recent  war,  and  each  allusion  to  it 
took  the  form  of  anecdote  or  some  pleasant,  inter- 


206  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

esting  experience — as  if  the  terrific  thunder  of  the 
cannon  from  the  Bohemian  battlefield  were  noth- 
ing more  than  one  of  Wagner's  operas.  The  whole 
thing  was  now  relegated  to  history,  and  to  the  maps 
marking  certain  changes  in  boundaries,  but  all  its 
misery  was  thrust  out  of  sight;  it  had  never  been 
a  part  of  the  life  of  those  not  engaged  in  the  war 
and  was  forgotten,  its  agony  outlived  and  wiped 
out.  The  newspapers — I  read  French  ones  mostly 
— were  all  full  of  the  preparations  for  the  World's 
Exposition  at  Paris,  the  festivities  at  Compiegne, 
the  latest  literary  events  (much  was  said  of  Zola 
and  Flaubert),  the  newest  plays;  the  last  opera  by 
Gounod — one  by  Offenbach,  in  which  Hortense 
Schneider  played  a  brilliant  r6le.  The  piquant 
duel  between  the  Prussians  and  Austrians  was  an 
old,  worn-out  story.  O,  all  that  lies  three  months 
behind  us,  or  is  thirty  miles  away — all  that  is  not  in 
our  immediate  present — cannot  be  expected  to  be 
part  of  the  overfull  human  heart  or  retain  a  place 
in  human  memory. 

In  October  we  returned  to  Vienna,  intending 
after  the  settlement  of  my  affairs  to  go  to  Paris  for 
a  prolonged  residence.  Frederick  had  in  mind  the 
organization  of  a  league  of  peace,  and  thought  the 
approaching  World's  Exposition  the  best  oppor- 
tunity to  call  an  international  congress  together, 
and  Paris  the  most  suitable  location  for  the  pur- 
pose. 

"  I  have  laid  down  the  profession  of  arms,"  he 
said,  "and  have  done  that  because  of  the  convic- 
tions gained  through  my  experience  of  war.  I 
enlist  now  in  the  army  of  peace.  Truly,  small  in 
numbers,  armed  by  no  weapon  save  a  love  of  jus- 
tice and  humanity.  But  all  that  becomes  great  had 
but  a  small  beginning." 

"  Ah,"  I  sighed,  "  it  is  a  hopeless  task.  What  can 
you — one  man — do  against  the  mighty  barricade 
defended  for  centuries  by  millions  of  men?" 

"What  can  I  do — I?  In  truth  I  am  not  so  fool- 
ish as  to  hope  that  I  personally  can  lead  to  this 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  207 

revolution.  I  say  only  that  I  enter  the  ranks  of  the 
army  of  peace.  Did  I  ever,  when  in  the  army  of 
war,  hope  to  rescue  my  country  or  to  conquer  a 
province?  No,  the  individual  can  only  serve.  More 
yet — he  must  serve.  He  who  is  inspired  by  a  cause 
can  do  no  other  than  work  for  it,  he  can  set  his  life 
upon  it,  even  if  he  knows  how  little  this  life  in 
itself  can  contribute  to  victory.  He  serves  because 
he  must;  it  is  not  alone  the  State,  but  private  con- 
viction which  demands  this  duty  of  him." 

Before  our  departure  for  Paris  we  intended  going 
to  Berlin  to  visit  poor  Aunt  Cornelia.  I  left  Ru- 
dolph with  Aunt  Marie,  who,  since  the  deaths  in  our 
family,  devoted  herself  to  him;  around  the  child 
centered  all  her  interest  in  life. 

On  the  eve  of  the  first  of  November  we  arrived 
in  Prague.  We  remained  over  night,  and  the  next 
morning  made  a  new  pilgrimage. 

"  All  Saints'  Day! "  I  said  as  I  glanced  at  the  date 
of  the  newspaper  brought  to  our  room  with  our 
breakfast. 

"All  Saints'  Day,"  repeated  Frederick.  "How 
many  of  our  dead  on  these  new  battlefields  cannot 
be  honored  because  one  knows  not  where  they  lie! 
Who  will  visit  them?" 

I  looked  up  at  him  a  moment  silently,  then  said 
softly:  "Will  you?" 

He  nodded.  An  hour  later  we  were  on  the  way 
to  Chlum  and  Koniggratz. 

"  Lo!  what  a  sight!  " 

An  elegy  of  Tiedge  occurred  to  my  mind:* 

"  Lo!  what  a  sight!  stand  here  in  thy  lordly  pride, 

By  these  mouldering  bones,  thou  ruler  '  by  right  divine,' 
And  swear  that  the  tyrant  of  men  shall  become  their 

guide — 

That  as  '  prince  of  peace  '  thou  wilt  rule  with  a  sway 
benign. 


*The  metrical  translations  in  "  Ground  Arms! "  are  by  Mr.  Thomas  C. 
Roney. — A. 


208  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

Gaze  round  about  thee  when  thirsting  for  glory  and  fame, 
O  tender  shepherd,  who  guardest  thy  flock  from  the 
foe; 

Number  these  skulls — their  ravager's  hand  is  the  same 
As  his  at  whose  stroke  thy  head  shall  forever  lie  low. 

If  in  thy  dreams  thou  shudderest,  hearing  the  groan 
Of  a  wretch  whose  life  thou  in  grewsome  horrors  hast 

ended; 

How  shalt  thou  dream  as  thou  sittest  upon  thy  throne: 
'  My  name   is   secure — with    the  great    world-history 
blended '  ?  " 

So  long  as  this  world-history  is  written  by  those 
who  set  up  for  its  heroes  pictorial  monuments  built 
from  the  ruins  made  by  war,  just  so  long  will  the 
Titans  among  the  murderers  of  peoples  be  crowned 
with  laurels.  "  To  refuse  the  laurel  wreath,  to  sac- 
rifice fame  would  be  noble,"  does  the  poet  say? 
Rob  of  its  ancient  nimbus  the  thing  which  it  seems 
meritorious  to  refuse,  and  no  ambitious  man  will 
strive  to  grasp  it. 

It  was  twilight  when  we  arrived  in  Chlum,  and 
from  there,  arm  in  arm,  in  silent,  deep  depression, 
approached  the  dread  battlefield  of  Sadowa.  Small 
flakes  of  snow  fell  softly  through  a  light  mist,  and 
the  bare  branches  of  the  trees  were  swayed  about 
by  a  cold  November  wind.  Rows  upon  rows  of 
graves  and  masses  of  graves  were  all  about  us. 
But  was  it  the  quiet  churchyard?  No.  Not  one  of 
life's  tired  pilgrims  had  been  laid  here  to  peaceful 
rest,  but  in  the  flush  of  youthful  fire,  in  the  full- 
ness of  manhood's  prime,  most  defiant  expectants 
of  the  future,  they  had  been  violently  hurled  down 
and  the  earth  of  the  grave  shoveled  over  them. 
All  the  breaking  hearts,  the  bloody,  mangled  limbs, 
the  bitterly  weeping  eyes,  the  despairing  cries,  the 
fruitless  prayers,  were  engulfed  in  eternal  silence. 

It  was  not  lonely  on  this  burialfield.  All  Saints' 
Day  had  brought  many  here — friends  and  foes  of 
those  who  had  fallen.  The  train  had  been  filled 
with  mourners,  and  for  several  hours  I  had  heard 
sobs  and  murmurs  of  lament. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  209 

"  I  lost  three  sons — each  nobler  than  the  other — 
on  the  field  of  Sadowa,"  I  heard  one  old,  heart- 
broken man  say.  There  were  mourners  for  broth- 
ers, husbands,  and  fathers,  but  none  of  them  so 
impressed  me  as  the  hopelessness  of  the  tearless 
sorrow  of  this  father  for  his  three  sons. 

In  the  fields  we  saw  upon  all  sides  black-robed 
figures  kneeling,  or  rising  and  going  with  sobs  from 
the  spot.  Few  single  graves  were  to  be  seen,  and 
few  marked  by  cross  or  stone.  We  stooped  and 
deciphered,  as  well  as  the  twilight  permitted,  a  few 
names. 

Major  von  Reuss,  of  the  Second  Prussian  Regi- 
ment of  the  Guards. 

"  Possibly  he  was  a  relative  of  the  betrothed  of 
our  poor  Rosa,"  I  remarked. 

Count  Griinne — wounded  the  third  of  July — 
died  the  fifth  of  July. 

What  must  he  have  suffered  in  those  three  days! 
I  wondered  if  he  were  the  son  of  that  Count 
Griinne,  who  before  the  war  had  uttered  the  well- 
known  sentence:  "We  will  drive  out  the  Prussians 
with  wet  rags."  How  absurd  and  offensively  silly 
such  expressions  sound,  when  repeated  in  such  a 
place.  Words,  words — nothing  more — contemptu- 
ous words,  bombastic  words,  threatening  words — 
spoken,  written  and  printed — these  have  caused  this 
field  to  be  filled  with  dead. 

We  walked  on.  Everywhere  there  were  hillocks 
of  greater  or  less  height,  greater  or  less  breadth, 
and  spots  without  any  elevation,  which  covered  sol- 
diers' mouldering  bodies. 

The  mist  grew  denser. 

"  Frederick,  put  on  your  hat.  You  will  take 
cold." 

But  Frederick  remained  uncovered — and  I  did 
not  repeat  my  admonition. 

Among  the  mourners  who  wandered  about  were 
many  officers  and  soldiers,  apparently  those  who 
had  taken  part  in  the  battle  and  had  made  this 
pilgrimage  in  honor  of  fallen  comrades. 


210  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

We  approached  that  part  of  the  field  where  the 
greatest  number — friend  and  foe — had  been  buried 
together.  The  place  had  been  inclosed.  Toward 
this  streamed  the  greatest  number  of  pilgrims,  for 
on  this  spot  in  all  probability  they  might  find  their 
dead.  All  around  the  inclosure  they  knelt  to  pray 
and  hung  their  funeral  wreaths  upon  the  palings. 

A  tall  and  slender  man  of  noble  presence, 
wrapped  in  a  general's  cloak,  came  up  to  this  cen- 
tral point.  All  drew  back  respectfully  and  I  heard 
the  whisper: 

"The  Emperor." 

Yes,  it  was  Francis  Joseph,  the  country's  ruler, 
the  Commander-in-chief  of  the  army,  who  had 
come  on  All  Saints'  Day  to  offer  a  silent  prayer  for 
the  dead  children  of  the  nation.  He  stood  uncov- 
ered with  bowed  head,  in  painful,  reverential  hom- 
age before  the  majesty  of  death. 

He  remained  for  a  time  sunk  in  profound  medi- 
tation. I  could  not  take  my  eyes  from  his  face. 
What  memories  must  have  oppressed  his  soul, 
what  sentiments  overwhelmed  his  heart?  For  he 
had  a  gentle,  tender  heart,  I  knew.  I  felt  imbued 
with  a  clairvoyant  sense  as  if  I  could  read  his 
thoughts  as  he  stood  there  with  his  bowed  head. 

"  My  poor,  brave  souls  who  died — for  what?  We 
have  not  conquered;  my  Venice  is  lost — so  much 
is  lost  and  all  your  young  lives!  I  have  not  wished 
the  sacrifice — it  was  for  yourselves,  your  country, 
that  you  were  led  into  this  war.  Not  through  me 
— though  it  came  at  my  command.  I  have  been 
compelled  to  fight.  Not  for  me  have  my  subjects 
fallen — no;  on  their  account  I  was  called  to  the 
throne,  and  every  hour  I  have  been  ready  to  die 
for  my  people's  good.  Had  I  but  followed  the 
impulses  of  my  heart  and  never  murmured  'yes' 
when  all  about  cried  '  war!  war!'  But  could  I  have 
withstood  the  clamor?  As  God  is  my  witness — no! 
The  pressure  was  from  you,  yourselves,  my  dead 
soldiers.  O  how  miserable,  most  miserable — what 
have  you  not  suffered;  and  now  to  lie  here,  slain 


' '  GRO  UND  A  RMS  !  "  211 

by  shot  and  shell,  saber  cuts,  cholera,  and  typhus! 
Could  I  have  said  '  no'?  The  thought  is  unendur- 
able." 

While  I  watched  him,  following  his  train  of 
thought,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and 
broke  into  a  passion  of  tears. 


212  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

FIFTH   BOOK. 

TIME    OF    PEACE. 

WE  found  Berlin  in  evident  jubilation.  Every 
petty  clerk  and  every  porter  had  an  air  of 
conscious  victory.  "  We  have  beaten  the  other 
side,"  seemed  a  reflection  which  had  a  very  exhil- 
arating effect  upon  the  whole  population.  Never- 
theless, we  found  a  melancholy  tone  pervading  all 
the  families  we  visited,  for  there  were  none  which 
had  not  one  unforgotten  dead  lying  on  the  battle- 
fields of  Germany  or  Bohemia. 

We  dreaded  our  first  visit  to  Aunt  Cornelia.  I 
knew  that  Gottfried  had  been  the  idol  of  her  heart, 
and  I  could  not  measure  the  sorrow  of  the  be- 
reaved mother.  I  could  only  reflect  upon  what  I 
might  suffer  should  I  lose  Rudolph — no,  I  would 
not  even  think  of  that. 

We  announced  our  visit,  and  with  beating  heart 
I  entered  Frau  von  Tessow's  home.  Even  in  the 
entrance  hall  we  realized  that  this  was  a  house  of 
mourning.  The  servant  who  admitted  us  wore 
black  livery;  in  the  great  reception  room  the  fur- 
niture was  all  covered  and  there  was  no  fire.  We 
were  led  into  Aunt  Cornelia's  bedroom,  where  she 
awaited  us.  This  was  a  large  apartment  divided 
by  curtains  hiding  the  bed,  and  which  now  served 
also  as  a  sitting-room.  She  never  left  the  house 
except  to  go  to  church  on  Sunday,  and  very  rarely 
went  out  of  her  room,  with  the  exception  of  one 
hour  daily,  which  she  spent  in  Gottfried's  little 
study. 

During  our  visit  she  took  us  into  this  little  room 
and  showed  us  a  letter  which  he  had  laid  on  his 
desk. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  213 

MY  PRECIOUS,  DARLING  MOTHER: 

I  know,  dear  Heart,  that  you  will  come  here  after 
my  departure — and  you  shall  find  this  letter.  Our  per- 
sonal parting  is  over.  So  much  the  more  will  you  be 
pleased  and  surprised  to  read  these  last  words  and  these 
cheerful,  hopeful  ones.  Be  of  good  courage;  I  am  com- 
ing back.  Fate  cannot  divide  two  hearts  which  so  de- 
pend upon  each  other.  My  presentiment  is  that  I  shall 
make  a  fortunate  campaign,  win  stars  and  crosses,  and 
then  come  back  to  present  you  with  six  grandchildren. 
I  kiss  your  hand,  your  soft,  tender  forehead,  my  most 
worshiped  of  mothers.  Yours,  GOTTFRIED. 

We  found  that  Aunt  Cornelia  was  not  alone.  A 
gentleman  in  a  long,  black  coat,  whom  we  recog- 
nized at  a  glance  as  a  clergyman,  sat  near  her.  We 
embraced  with  tears,  and  for  several  moments  it 
was  not  possible  to  speak. 

As  she  led  us  back  and  offered  us  chairs  she 
introduced  her  guest  as  Mr.  Molser,  an  army  chap- 
lain and  a  counselor  of  the  consistory. 

"  My  friend  and  spiritual  adviser,"  she  added, 
"who  takes  an  interest  in  offering  such  consolation 
as  he  can  in  my  sorrow." 

"  Who  unfortunately,  my  dear  friend,  has  not  yet 
succeeded  in  teaching  you  proper  resignation  or 
how  to  bear  this  cross  with  the  right,  cheerful 
spirit,"  the  gentleman  replied.  "  Why  do  I  see  you 
still  yield  to  these  weak  outbursts  of  tears,  as  you 
did  just  now?" 

"  Forgive  me.  When  I  saw  my  nephew  and  his 
young  wife  last  my  Gottfried  was  with  me,"  she 
could  scarcely  reply. 

"  Yes,  your  son  was  then  in  this  sinful  world, 
exposed  to  all  its  dangers  and  temptations,  while 
he  is  now  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  after  he  has 
lost  his  life  in  the  noblest,  most  blessed  way  for 
king  and  country.  You,  Colonel,  can  help  me  com- 
fort this  afflicted  mother,  for  as  a  soldier  you  know 
that  the  fate  of  her  son  is  an  enviable  one.  You 
must  know  how  joyfully  the  brave  soldier  meets 
death,  how  the  decision  to  lay  his  life  upon  the 
altar  of  his  country  transfigures  the  agonies  of 


214  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

death,  and  how,  when  he  falls  in  battle,  in  the 
midst  of  the  thunder  of  cannon,  he  fully  expects 
to  be  transferred  to  that  greater  army  above,  there 
to  remain  until  the  Lord  of  Hosts  holds  his  grand 
review.  You,  Colonel,  are  among  those  who,  by 
the  divine  blessing,  have  helped  win  the  righteous 
victory " 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Molser, "  said  Frederick,  "  I 
was  in  the  Austrian  service." 

"  Ah,  I  thought ,  "  stammered  the  reverend 

gentleman,  much  embarrassed.  "It  was  a  fine — a 
brave  army  also.  But  I  will  not  disturb  you  fur- 
ther. You  have  family  matters  to  talk  about,  no 
doubt.  Good  day,  dear  Madam,  I  will  see  you 
again  in  a  few  days.  Until  then  lift  up  your  hearts 
to  the  All  Merciful,  who  does  not  permit  a  hair  to 
fall  from  our  heads  without  his  knowledge,  and 
who  does  all  things  for  the  best,  whether  he  suffers 
us  to  endure  sorrow  and  suffering,  or  death  itself." 

My  aunt  shook  hands  with  him  gratefully. 

Frederick  detained  Mr.  Molser  a  moment. 

"  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you, "  he  said.  "  I 
should  judge  from  your  conversation  that  you  are 
thoroughly  imbued  with  the  religious  and  military 
spirit.  Now,  my  wife  here  is  much  troubled  by 
certain  doubts  and  scruples.  She  maintains  that 
from  the  Christian  standpoint  war  cannot  be  ex- 
cused. I  know  quite  the  contrary,  for  the  priest- 
hood and  the  military  class  stand  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  but  I  lack  the  facility  of  language  to 
make  this  clear  to  her.  Would  you  kindly  appoint 
an  hour  when  we  might  hope  for  an  interview  to 
discuss  this  subject?" 

"  Certainly, "  replied  the  clergyman,  and  a  day 
and  hour  were  at  once  appointed. 

"  Can  the  conversation  of  this  friend  afford  you 
any  consolation? "  said  Frederick  to  his  aunt  when 
we  were  alone. 

"Consolation?  I  do  not  expect  that  in  this 
world.  But  he  speaks  so  earnestly  of  the  things  of 
which  I  now  love  most  to  hear,  of  death  and  sorrow, 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  215 

of  the  cross  and  sacrifice  and  renunciation.  He 
pictures  the  world,  which  my  poor  Gottfried  has 
left  and  which  I  long  to  leave,  as  a  vale  of  tears,  of 
corruption,  of  wickedness,  of  total  depravity;  and 
then  it  seems  to  me  not  so  great  a  sorrow  that  my 
child  has  been  taken  away.  He  is  in  heaven  and 
here  on  earth " 

"The  powers  of  hell  prevail;  that  is  true,  as  I 
have  very  recently  seen,"  replied  Frederick  reflect- 
ively. 

Our  visit  was  a  long  and  sorrowful  one  and 
our  conversation  mainly  of  the  recent  campaign. 
Frederick  was  able  to  give  the  poor  mother  the 
same  comfort  he  had  once  brought  me,  in  the  as- 
surance of  the  instantaneous,  painless  death  of  her 
son. 

"  Now  tell  me, "  I  said  to  Frederick,  as  we  left 
the  house.  "What  did  you  mean  by  asking  that 
clergyman  to  meet  us?" 

"  To  furnish  material  for  study.  I  really  want 
to  hear  how  the  clergy  excuse  this  murder  of  a 
people.  I  used  your  convictions  as  an  excuse  be- 
cause it  is  more  reasonable  that  a  woman  should, 
from  the  Christian  standpoint,  doubt  its  justifica- 
tion of  war  than  that  a  lieutenant-colonel  should 
have  those  views." 

"  But  you  know  very  well  we  have  doubts  of  its 
justification  from  the  humane,  not  from  the  reli- 
gious point  of  view  alone,"  I  replied. 

"  You  must  not  acknowledge  that  to  the  clergy- 
man, or  the  question  will  be  transferred  to  another 
field.  There  is  no  inherent  contradiction  in  the 
position  of  the  freethinker  when  he  strives  for  the 
maintenance  of  peace,  but  the  contradiction  be- 
tween the  Christian  principle  of  love  and  those 
theories  claimed  to  be  of  divine  origin  justifying 
war,  which  these  same  Christian  clergymen  so  curi- 
ously defend,  is  just  what  I  want  to  hear  from  the 
lips  of  one  of  them." 

The  chaplain  made  his  appearance  punctually. 
It  was  evident  that  the  opportunity  for  a  contro- 


216  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

versial  discourse  was  enticing,  especially  with  the 
prospect,  which  he  did  not  doubt,  of  my  conver- 
sion to  his  side  of  a  disputed  question.  I,  on  the 
contrary,  had  looked  forward  to  the  interview  with 
very  uncomfortable  feelings,  for  I  felt  as  if  occupy- 
ing an  insincere  position.  But  for  the  good  of  the 
cause  to  which  Frederick  had  devoted  himself  I 
surrendered  my  objections,  comforting  myself  with 
the  reflection  that  the  end  justified  the  means. 

"  Allow  me,  dear  Madam,  to  proceed  at  once  to 
the  discussion  of  the  object  of  my  visit,"  said  the 
gentleman  a  day  or  two  later,  having  made  him- 
self comfortable  in  an  arm-chair  near  the  fire. 
"  Your  mind  is  troubled  by  certain  scruples,  which 
are  apparently  just,  but  which  can  be  proved  to 
be  mere  sophistry.  You  believe  that  the  command 
of  Christ  to  love  our  enemies,  and  the  warning, 
'He  who  takes  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the 
sword,'  to  be  a  contradiction  of  the  duties  of  the 
soldier,  who  is  required  by  his  position  to  injure 
the  enemy  even  to  the  destruction  of  life,  if  neces- 
sary? " 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Molser,  this  contradiction  appears 
to  me  irreconcilable.  We  have  also  the  express 
command  of  the  decalogue  'Thou  shalt  not  kill.'" 

"  Well,  yes,  superficially  considered,  that  is  an  ap- 
parently insurmountable  difficulty;  but  when  one 
gets  below  the  surface  all  doubts  disappear.  The 
proper  translation  of  that  command,  however,  is 
'  thou  shalt  not  murder.'  To  kill  through  necessity 
is  not  murder — no  courts  hold  it  so — and  war  is  a 
necessity,  therefore,  no  murder.  We  can  and  must, 
according  to  the  gentle  command  of  our  Saviour, 
love  our  enemies;  but  that  does  not  mean  that  we 
shall  endure  injustice  and  acts  of  violence." 

"  Then  it  simply  amounts  to  this,  that  defensive 
wars  are  alone  justifiable,  and  the  sword  should  be 
drawn  only  when  the  enemy  crosses  the  frontier. 
Suppose  the  opposing  power  were  actuated  by 
the  same  principle,  how  in  the  world  is  war  going 
to  be  begun?  In  the  last  war  it  was  your  army, 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  217 

Mr.  MSlser,  which  first  marched  over  the  border 
and " 

"  When  it  is  necessary  to  avert  catastrophe,  dear 
Madam,"  replied  the  theologian  quickly,  "and  we 
certainly  have  a  sacred  right  to  do  so;  it  would  be 
inexcusable  for  us  to  neglect  the  favorable  time 
for  action;  neither  is  it  necessary  to  wait  until  the 
enemy  falls  upon  us,  and  the  ruling  authority  must 
be  at  liberty  to  forestall  violence  and  injustice. 
That  is  the  meaning  of  the  warning,  '  He  that 
taketh  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword.'  The 
ruler  stands  as  the  servant  and  avenger  of  God 
against  the  enemy  who  have  drawn  the  sword 
against  him,  and  who  therefore  must  perish  by  it." 

"  There  is  a  fallacy  here  somewhere,"  said  I, 
shaking  my  head;  "it  is  impossible  to  make  these 
grounds  answer  for  both  sides." 

:t  In  regard  to  other  scruples  of  conscience,"  con- 
tinued the  clergyman,  without  noticing  my  re- 
marks, "  for  instance,  that  war  in  itself  must  be 
displeasing  to  God,  every  Bible-reading  Christian 
knows  that  the  God  of  Israel  himself  commanded 
his  peculiar  people  to  conquer  the  promised  land, 
assuring  them  of  victory  and  his  blessing.  In  the 
twenty-first  chapter  and  fourteenth  verse  of  Num- 
bers there  is  an  allusion  to  the  book  of  the  wars 
of  the  Lord.  Often  we  find  praises  to  the  Lord  in 
the  Psalms  for  the  help  which  Jehovah  has  given 
his  people  in  war.  Do  you  not  remember,  in  Sol- 
omon's proverbs,  twenty-first  chapter,  thirty-first 
verse,  we  find:  'The  horse  is  prepared  against  the 
day  of  battle,  but  safety  is  of  the  Lord.'  In 
Psalms  we  find  David  thanking  God,  'who  teacheth 
my  hands  to  war  and  my  fingers  to  fight.'" 

"  There  appears  to  be  a  material  difference  in  the 
teaching  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  The 
God  of  the  Hebrews  and  of  the  old  dispensation 
was  a  warlike  Jehovah,  but  the  mild  and  gentle 
Jesus  proclaimed  the  mission  of  peace  and  taught 
love  of  our  neighbor  and  our  enemy,"  I  ventured 
to  assert. 


218  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  Even  in  the  New  Testament,  in  the  Gospel  of 
St.  Luke,  Jesus  speaks  without  condemnation  of  a 
king  going  to  make  war  upon  another  king.  Paul 
often  uses  metaphors  borrowed  from  a  condition 
of  war,  as  where  in  Romans  he  speaks  of  the  ruler 
who  beareth  not  the  sword  in  vain,  but  is  God's 
servant  and  avenger  against  those  who  do  evil." 

"But,  Mr.  Molser,  you  cannot  overcome  my 
scruples  by  proving  the  existence  of  contradictions 
in  the  Bible  itself,"  I  exclaimed. 

"  There  you  exhibit  the  superficial  reasoning  of 
those  who  rely  upon  feeble  private  judgment.  A 
contradiction  indicates  something  incomplete  and 
ungodly;  when  I  show  that  a  thing  is  to  be  found 
in  the  Bible — no  matter  if  it  is  apparently  incom- 
prehensible to  human  understanding — that  fact 
alone  is  proof  of  there  being  no  contradiction,  only 
a  misconception." 

"  I  should  think  it  complete  evidence  that  the 
matter  in  dispute  could  not  possibly  be  of  divine 
origin,"  I  muttered,  but  only  half  aloud,  as  the 
utterance  would  completely  upset  our  discussion. 

"  I  have  evidence  here  which  may  interest  you, 
Mr.  Molser,"  said  Frederick,  "  of  the  position  as- 
sumed by  an  army  officer  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, as  justification  of  the  view  that  war  is  derived 
from  the  Bible.  You  can  judge  of  the  advance 
you  have  made.  It  appears  to  me  somewhat  ex- 
travagant." 

He  opened  his  desk  and  drew  out  a  paper  from 
which  he  read: 

"  War  was  the  invention  of  God  and  by  him  taught  to 
men.  God  set  the  first  soldier  with  a  flaming,  two-edged 
sword  at  the  gate  of  the  Garden  of  Eden  in  order  to  pun- 
ish the  first  rebel,  Adam.  In  Deuteronomy  we  read  that 
God,  through  Moses,  encouraged  his  people  to  victory 
and  gave  them  his  priests  as  an  advance  guard. 

"  The  first  stratagem  was  against  the  city  of  Hai,  and 
during  this  war  the  sun  stood  still  in  the  heavens  in  order 
that  victory  might  be  assured  and  many  thousands  slaugh- 
tered. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  219 

"  All  the  horrors  of  war  are  tolerated  by  God,  for  the 
Holy  Scripture  is  full  of  the  account  of  them,  and  this 
also  indicates  that  as  wars  were  approved  by  him  every 
honest  man  can  with  a  good  conscience  take  part  in 
them. 

"The  story  of  Deborah  and  Sisera;  of  Gibeon  and  of 
David,  who  invented  the  most  horrible  tortures  for  the 
children  of  Ammon  and " 

"But  this  is  outrageous,"  exclaimed  the  clergy- 
man. "No  one  but  a  rough  mercenary  soldier  of 
the  Thirty  Years'  War  could  so  malevolently  distort 
examples  given  in  the  Bible  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
cusing the  fiendishness  of  his  own  era.  We  now 
proclaim  a  far  different  doctrine.  In  war  we  can 
now  only  do  enough  to  render  the  enemy  harmless. 
We  pursue  him  to  the  death  with  no  malicious 
sentiment  against  the  individual.  Against  the  de- 
fenseless all  outrage  to  property  or  injury  to  life 
becomes  as  immoral  and  inexcusable  in  war  as  in 
peace.  Yes,  such  arguments  as  you  have  read 
would  be  used  in  past  centuries  when  robber  ad- 
venturers at  the  head  of  hirelings  roamed  the  land, 
with  their  hand  against  every  man  who  ventured 
to  defy  them,  but  not  to-day  when  soldiers  are  not 
recruited  for  pay  and  booty,  and  without  knowing 
whom  they  are  to  fight  against,  but  are  enrolled 
for  the  highest  ideals  of  humanity,  for  freedom, 
independence,  national  life,  for  right,  honor,  dis- 
cipline, and  morality." 

"  The  times  are  changed,  Mr.  Molser, "  I  sug- 
gested, "  and  you  are  more  humane  than  the  cap- 
tain of  the  seventeenth  century.  But  is  it  not  the 
same  book  and  the  same  Jehovah  to  whom  both 
sides  now  appeal,  whom  you  do  not  consider  to 
have  altered  even  if  the  times  have  changed? " 

Indignantly  I  was  called  to  account  for  a  lack  of 
reverence  for  the  Word  of  God,  and  also  for  a  lack 
of  common  sense.  I  allowed  the  reverend  gentle- 
man to  finish  his  argument  without  further  protest, 
and  he  entered  upon  a  long  harangue  in  which  he 
spoke  of  the  connection  between  the  military  and  the 
Christian  spirit;  how  elevating  to  the  heart  it  was 


220  "GROUND  ARM  SI" 

to  see  the  new  standards  carried  to  the  altar  to  be 
consecrated,  dedicated  to  the  cause  of  justice  and 
the  cause  of  God.  Or,  if  battleworn  and  brought 
for  re-consecration,  accompanied  by  martial  music 
and  guarded  on  both  sides  by  officers  with  drawn 
swords,  this  flag,  torn  as  it  may  be  and  decorated 
with  the  names  of  battles  won,  is  a  grand  incentive 
to  the  raw  recruit,  who  first  sees  it  in  such  holy  sur- 
roundings. He  repeated  the  prayer  used  on  Sun- 
day in  all  churches:  "Protect,  O  Lord,  the  royal 
army  and  all  faithful  servants  of  the  king  and 
country.  Teach  them  as  Christians  to  consider 
their  end  and  to  consecrate  their  lives  to  Thy  honor 
and  the  good  of  their  native  land." 

"  God  with  us,  "  he  continued,  "  is  the  motto 
upon  the  belt-buckle  worn  by  the  infantry,  and  this 
inscription  should  give  each  man  courage.  Is  God 
with  us — who  can  prevail  against  us?  The  church 
appoints  fast  days  and  periods  of  prayer  at  the 
beginning  of  war,  in  order  that  the  people  may 
appeal  to  God,  certain  that  through  the  power  of 
earnest  prayer  the  assistance  of  the  Almighty  may 
be  secured,  and  through  this  mediation  victory  be 
assured.  How  powerfully  the  soldier  marching 
into  the  field  is  aided  by  this  consecration  to  duty. 
When  called  upon  by  his  king  to  step  into  the 
ranks,  how  securely  he  can  reckon  upon  victory 
and  blessing  for  a  righteous  cause!  God,  the 
Lord  of  all,  will  lead  his  people,  as  he  once  led 
his  people  Israel,  if  we  prayerfully  commit  the 
battle  to  him.  The  intimate  connection  between 
prayer  and  victory,  between  piety  and  bravery  is 
easily  understood;  for  what  can  afford  greater 
security  in  the  face  of  death  than  the  assurance 
that,  if  in  the  turmoil  of  battle  the  last  hour  strikes, 
the  soldier  will  then  find  himself  in  the  presence  of 
a  gracious  and  well  pleased  Judge?  Faith  and 
loyalty  in  connection  with  valor  and  capacity  for 
war  belong  to  the  old  traditions  of  our  people." 

In  this  style  he  continued  for  some  time:  one 
moment  with  bowed  head  and  softest  tone  he 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  221 

spoke  of  love,  heaven,  humility,  salvation,  and  sa- 
cred things;  the  next,  with  military  precision,  son- 
orous voice,  and  sharp  and  cutting  emphasis,  he 
discoursed  of  strictest  morals  and  sternest  disci- 
pline of  sword  and  gun.  The  word  joy  was  not 
otherwise  used  than  in  connection  with  death  and 
battle.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  army  chaplain, 
to  kill  and  to  be  killed  seemed  the  chief  joy  of  life. 
Verses  were  declaimed,  battle  songs  recited.  First 
that  one  by  Korner: 

"  My  Father,  lead  Thou  me, 

Or  to  the  victor's  crown,  or  to  death's  altar! 

At  Thy  divine  command  ne'er  will  I  falter. 
Lord,  as  Thou  wilt,  oh,  lead  Thou  me. 
My  God,  I  bow  to  Thee." 

Then  the  old  folk  song  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War: 

"  Brave  men  no  holier  death  can  die, 

No  fate  more  fondly  cherish, 
Than  here,  beneath  the  open  sky, 
By  the  foe's  good  sword  to  perish. 

In  peace  the  grassy  hillocks  swell 

Above  each  lonely  sleeper; 
But  soldiers  true  lie  as  they  fell, 

Like  grain  beside  the  reaper." 

Again,  Lenau's  War  Song  of  the  Merry  Armorer: 

"  Peace  destroys  the  life  of  nations, 
Saps  the  soldier's  strength,  defaces 
Martial  pride,  with  cobwebs  traces 
All  his  hard-won  decorations. 

Ha!  war's  ringing  call  elates  him. 
Blood  is  flowing;  wounds  are  gaping, — 
Into  living  mouths  seem  shaping. 

Deadly  strife  rejuvenates  him." 

He  closed  with  this  quotation  from  Luther: 
"  When  I  consider  that  war  is  the  protection  of 
wife,  child,  home,  country,  goodness,  and  honor, 
how  can  I  refrain  from  regarding  it  as  a  most 
valuable  means  to  a  noble  end." 


222  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  Well,  yes — when  I  look  upon  the  panther  as  a 
dove,  certainly  I  must  consider  him  as  a  harmless 
creature,"  I  murmured  to  myself.  How  gladly 
would  I  have  replied  to  his  rhythmical  flood  by  a 
poem  from  Bodenstedt: 

Of  battles  and  heroic  deeds 

Discourse  in  pompous  declamation; 

But  tell  me  naught  of  Christian  creeds 
That  need  the  cannon's  punctuation. 

If,  to  proclaim  your  valor  good, 
You  indulge  such  heathenish  behavior; 

Spill  without  stint  your  victim's  blood, 
But  talk  not  then  to  me  of  '  Saviour.' 

The  Turk,  devout  and  credulous, 
Fights  for  the  honor  of  his  Allah; 

But  Odin  lives  no  more  for  us — 
Dead  are  the  gods  of  the  Walhalla. 

Be  what  you  will,  unfettered,  free 
To  slay  on  this  side  or  the  other; 

Abhorred  be  that  hypocrisy 

Which  calls  the  Nazarene  your  brother.1" 

But  our  "  Martial  Nazarene  "  could  not  know  our 
thoughts,  and  with  evident  pleasure  in  what  he 
considered  a  triumphant  ending  to  a  most  instruct- 
ive discourse,  he  rose  and  departed,  after  congratu- 
lating Frederick  upon  having  silenced  the  scruples 
of  his  wife,  whose  previous  point  of  view  must 
have  been  very  annoying  to  a  soldier. 

"Ah!"  I  sighed,  "what  a  torment!" 

"Yes,  it  was,  and  was  increased  by  the  conscious- 
ness that  we  were  not  acting  fairly.  I  was  some- 
times almost  driven  to  say  to  him  that  I  shared  the 
convictions  of  my  wife,  and  that  what  he  had  said 
only  showed  the  weakness  of  his  own  position  and 
would  invite  me  to  prove  further  how  untenable  it 
was.  But  I  was  silent.  Why  should  I  outrage  the 
convictions  of  an  honest  man,  convictions  which 
must  necessarily  lie  at  the  foundation  of  his  pro- 
fession? " 


GROUND  ARMS!"  223 

"  Honest  convictions?  Are  you  sure  of  that? 
Does  he  reason  at  all?  Does  he  actually  believe  he 
is  speaking  the  truth,  or  does  he  not  consciously 
deceive  his  soldier  congregation  when  he  prom- 
ises them  victory  through  the  help  of  a  God  who  he 
knows  is  appealed  to  in  the  same  manner  by  the 
other  side?  This  appeal  for  'our  nation'  and  'our 
cause,'  as  if  it  were  the  only  righteous  one,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  cause  of  God,  belongs  to  a  per- 
iod when  one  tribe,  shut  out  from  all  other  peo- 
ples, considered  itself  the  special  favorite  of  heaven. 
And  then  these  consolatory  pictures  of  heavenly 
bliss,  in  order  to  reconcile  one  to  the  sacrifice  of 
this  life  on  earth — these  ceremonies  and  consecra- 
tions, sacred  oaths  and  anthems,  manipulated  with 
the  object  of  arousing  in  the  breast  of  those  or- 
dered into  active  service  a  contempt  for  death — are 
all  too  horrible." 

"  There  are  two  sides  to  every  question,  Martha," 
said  Frederick.  "  Because  we  hate  war,  everything 
used  to  excuse  it  seems  horrible." 

"  Certainly,  because  through  all  these  artificial 
means  the  atrocity  is  maintained." 

"  Not  entirely.  Old  customs  are  embedded  with 
a  thousand  roots,  and  so  long  as  they  endure  it  is 
as  well  that  all  mitigating  sentiments  and  notions 
should  live  with  them.  How  many  poor  devils 
have  been  helped  in  the  hour  of  death  by  these 
careful  instructions  as  to  the  glory  of  life's  sur- 
render in  such  a  cause;  how  many  pious  souls  have 
confidently  relied  upon  the  promises  of  divine  help 
made  by  the  clergy;  now  much  innocent  vanity 
and  what  lofty  sentiments  of  honor  have  been 
awakened  and  satisfied  by  these  religious  ceremo- 
nies; how  many  hearts  have  beat  higher  under  the 
inspiration  of  this  noble  music!  Among  all  the 
sorrows  which  war  has  brought  upon  mankind  we 
must  leave  out  that  anguish  which  the  bards  of 
battle-hymns,  and  the  preachers  have  through  their 
chants  and  sermons  sung  and  lied  away." 


234  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

We  were  suddenly  called  from  Berlin  by  the  dan- 
gerous illness  of  Aunt  Marie. 

I  found  our  old  friend  at  the  point  of  death. 

"I  am  glad  to  go, "  she  said;  "since  my  poor 
brother  and  his  three  children  were  taken  away 
I  find  no  comfort  in  life.  Conrad  and  Lilli  are 
also  united  up  there.  They  were  not  destined  to 
union  on  earth.  It  is  a  comfort  to  me  that  you 
are  happy,  Martha,  and  the  fact  that  your  husband 
has  escaped  the  dangers  of  two  campaigns  proves 
that  you  are  ordained  to  grow  old  together.  Be 
careful  to  educate  Rudolph  as  a  good  Christian 
and  a  good  soldier,  in  order  that  his  grandfather 
may  rejoice  over  him.  I  will  pray  incessantly  that 
you  may  live  long  and  happily." 

I  could  not  at  such  a  time  comment  on  the  con- 
tradiction of  foreordination  to  live  and  the  neces- 
sity of  incessant  prayer  to  that  end.  After  three 
days  of  suffering  the  last  of  the  friends  of  my  child- 
hood quietly  passed  away  after  receiving  the  con- 
solatory last  sacraments  of  the  church.  She  left 
her  small  fortune  to  Rudolph  and  appointed  her 
old  friend,  the  Minister  of  Finance,  as  trustee.  We 
remained  some  months  in  Vienna,  as  a  long  resi- 
dence in  Paris  would  not  be  possible  until  our  busi- 
ness affairs  were  in  order. 

Twice  a  week  our  old  friend  dined  with  us,  and 
Frederick  took  great  pleasure  in  turning  the  con- 
versation upon  the  study  of  human  rights.  For 
the  old  gentleman,  who  was  a  born  and  trained 
diplomat  and  bureaucrat,  the  position  of  Frederick 
was  difficult  to  grasp.  He  was  acquainted  with 
practical  politics,  which,  as  it  simply  considers  ex- 
pediency as  a  rule  of  action,  does  not  even  know 
the  theoretical  questions  of  social  science. 

I  sat  near  at  hand,  busied  with  needlework,  and 
did  not  join  in  the  conversation.  This  was  quite 
proper  according  to  the  standpoint  of  the  old  gen- 
tleman, who  knew  well  that  for  women  politics  was 
far  too  profound  a  subject;  he  was  convinced  that 
I  was  occupied  with  other  matters,  when  in  truth  it 


AGROUND  ARMS!"  225 

was  my  business  to  imprint  all  upon  my  memory 
in  order  to  copy  it  into  my  note-books.  Frederick 
made  no  secret  of  his  views,  although  he  knew 
well  what  an  unthankful  rdle  one  plays  in  main- 
taining theories  which  by  the  world  at  large  are 
regarded  as  fantastic  and  impracticable. 

"  I  have  an  important  piece  of  news  to-day,  my 
dear  Tilling,  "  said  the  minister  as  he  came  in  one 
afternoon.  "  It  is  rumored  in  official  circles  that 
the  war  ministry  are  going  to  recommend  a  gen- 
eral obligation  to  military  service." 

"What?  The  same  system  which  we  so  lately 
ridiculed  when  we  talked  about  arming  tailors'  ap- 
prentices?" asked  Frederick. 

"  We  did  have  a  prejudice  against  it,  but  Prussia 
has  proved  its  value.  From  the  moral,  democratic 
and  liberal  standpoint,  which  you  are  lately  talk- 
ing about  so  much,  it  is  the  proper  thing.  Every 
citizen,  without  regard  to  condition  or  class,  owes 
his  country  the  same  duty;  and  from  the  military 
point  of  view,  why,  Prussia  proved  that  this  was 
the  reason  of  her  success." 

"  You  mean  to  say  that  if  we  had  had  a  greater 
force  the  enemy  could  not  have  made  his  own  so 
serviceable;  ergo,  if  all  nations  carried  out  the  sys- 
tem of  general  armament,  no  one  would  be  the 
gainer.  The  war  game  of  chess  would  be  played 
with  larger  numbers,  but  the  result  would  still 
depend  upon  the  fortune  and  skill  of  those  en- 
gaged, the  only  difference  would  be  that  where 
thousands  are  now  slaughtered,  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands would  then  suffer." 

"Why,  do  you  consider  it  just  and  right,"  ex- 
claimed the  diplomatist,  "that  only  a  part  of  the 
population  should  be  sacrificed  for  the  benefit  of 
another  class,  who  because  they  are  sick  can  re- 
main at  home?  No,  no;  with  the  new  regulation 
this  will  all  be  changed.  There  will  be  no  buying 
of  substitutes — every  one  must  serve.  And  these 
intelligent  classes  will  make  the  finest  material  for 
soldiers." 


226  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  But  the  other  side  use  the  same  educated  class. 
There  is  another  view  of  this  question;  both  sides 
must  suffer  by  the  loss  of  priceless  intellectual 
material,  when  the  educated, — those  who  through 
invention,  art,  or  any  scientific  investigation  are 
materially  advancing  civilization, — are  forced  into 
the  ranks  as  a  target  for  the  enemy's  fire." 

"Pshaw!  what  does  invention,  or  art,  or  rum- 
maging among  dry  bones,  called  scientific  investi- 
gation, add  to  the  power  or  influence  of  a  state?" 

"What!  "exclaimed  Frederick. 

"Yes,  how?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  of  course,  go  on " 

"  These  men  need  to  serve  but  a  short  time — a 
few  years  of  strict  discipline  will  not  interfere  with 
their  other  duties  as  good  citizens.  Blood  tax  we 
have  all  got  to  pay,  so  it  might  as  well  be  divided 
equally." 

"  If  through  this  division  the  blood  tax  were 
diminished,  it  would  be  a  recommendation;  but 
it  is  thereby  increased.  I  hope  the  project  will 
not  succeed.  One  cannot  calculate  to  what  it  may 
lead.  One  power  will  endeavor  to  surpass  the 
other  and  it  will  end  in  the  existence  no  longer 
of  armies,  but  of  armed  nations.  More  and  more 
men  will  be  drawn  into  the  service,  the  length  of 
the  time  of  service  will  be  increased,  the  costs  of 
maintenance  will  grow  greater,  and  without  actu- 
ally coming  to  blows  nations  through  this  armed 
condition  will  be  precipitated  into  ruin." 

"You  are  looking  too  far  ahead,  Tilling." 

"  One  cannot  look  too  far  ahead.  Everything 
which  man  undertakes  should  be  reasoned  out  to 
its  logical  conclusion,  to  its  extreme  consequences. 
We  are  fond  of  comparing  war  to  a  game  of  chess; 
politics  is  the  same,  your  Excellency,  and  he  is  a 
poor  player  who  does  not  calculate  farther  than 
one  move,  or  who  rejoices  because  he  threatens 
only  a  pawn.  Suppose,  after  every  man  regard- 
less of  age  had  been  drawn  up  into  line,  some  na- 
tion should  conclude  to  arm  its  women  and  then 
its  children, — think  of  battalions  of  children." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  227 

"Be  quiet,  Tilling.  You  are  an  impracticable 
dreamer.  If  you  can  tell  me  the  way  to  prevent 
war  it  might  be  a  good  thing.  But  as  that  is  not 
possible,  every  nation  must  look  to  it  that  in  the 
inevitable  struggle  for  existence  (is  not  that  one  of 
Darwin's  battle-cries?)  it  secures  the  best  chance 
to  win." 

"  If  I  were  to  tell  you  the  way  to  prevent  war 
you  would  think  me  a  more  impracticable  dreamer 
than  ever,  and  blinded  by  sentimentality  and  the 
*  humanity  swindle,'  as  the  war  party  denounces  it." 

"All  practicable  means  fail  to  secure  the  attain- 
ment of  your  ideal.  You  can  only  reckon  upon 
factors  actually  in  existence.  These  are  the  pas- 
sions of  men,  the  rivalries,  the  antagonism  of  inter- 
ests, the  impossibility  of  agreeing  upon  all  ques- 
tions  " 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  agree,"  interrupted  Fred- 
erick. "When  differences  arise  a  court  of  appeal 
— not  a  resort  to  force — could  decide." 

"  Nations  and  people  will  never  agree  to  an  inter- 
national tribunal." 

"The  people?  Potentates  and  diplomats  will  be 
slow.  But  the  people?  Nowhere  is  the  love  of 
peace  so  earnest  and  sincere  as  among  the  people, 
while  the  protestations  to  that  effect  of  diplomats 
and  governments  are  mainly  lies,  hypocritical  lies, 
or  at  least  believed  to  be  so  by  the  antagonistic 
nation.  More  and  more  the  people  will  cry  for 
peace.  With  the  growth  of  standing  armies  the 
dislike  for  war  will  increase  in  the  same  propor- 
tion. It  is  easy  to  conceive  of  enthusiasm  for  a 
class,  and  the  soldier  had  an  honorable  position 
by  reason  of  the  halo  of  self-sacrifice  surrounding 
him.  But  when  this  exceptional  condition  becomes 
the  general  one,  all  such  distinction  fades  away. 
The  admiring  gratitude  of  those  who  remain  at 
home  disappears,  because  no  one  any  longer  re- 
mains at  home.  It  will  be  difficult  then  to  arouse 
the  love  of  war  so  persistently  ascribed  to  the  sol- 
dier. Who  were  those  who  had  so  much  to  say  of 


228  GROUND  ARMS!" 

the  heroism  of  military  service,  and  who  glorified 
the  danger?  Those  who  before  were  quite  safe, 
the  college  professors,  the  diplomatists,  the  pot- 
house politicians,  the  chorus  of  the  old  men,  as  in 
'  Faust.'  But  with  the  loss  of  security  for  them- 
selves these  will  all  be  hushed,  and  when  not  only 
those  who  love  the  service,  but  those  who  cordially 
detest  it,  are  forced  into  the  ranks,  the  situation 
will  then  become  more  than  serious  and  alarming. 
Poets,  thinkers,  friends  of  humanity,  gentle  people, 
timid  people:  all  these  will,  from  their  own  special 
point  of  view,  curse  the  whole  thing." 

"  They  will  more  likely  keep  quiet  in  order  not 
to  be  considered  cowards,  or  for  fear  of  getting 
into  disgrace  with  the  powers  that  be." 

"Keep  quiet!  Not  always.  I  have  kept  silence 
a  long  time,  but  the  time  has  come  for  me  to  speak 
out.  When  conviction  drives,  words  come  fast 
enough.  I  was  forty  years  old  before  my  convic- 
tions assumed  force  sufficient  to  find  expression. 
And  where  I  required  two  or  three  times  ten  years 
to  ripen  conviction,  the  masses  may  need  two  or 
three  generations;  but  the  time  will  come  at  last 
and  they  will  speak." 

New  Year,  '67. 

We  celebrated  St.  Sylvester's  Eve  entirely  alone, 
Frederick  and  I.  As  it  struck  twelve  o'clock  I  said, 
sighing: 

"  Do  you  remember  the  toast  that  my  poor  father 
offered  at  this  hour  a  year  ago?  I  do  not  dare  to 
wish  you  a  happy  New  Year — the  future  hides  in 
her  breast  so  much  that  is  terrible,  and  no  human 
being  can  avert  it." 

"Then  let  us  make  use  of  the  season  to  look 
back  instead  of  toward  the  future.  How  much 
you  have  endured,  my  poor,  brave  wife!  You  have 
buried  so  many  of  those  you  loved — and  that 
frightful  day  on  the  Bohemian  battlefields — 

"  I  shall  never  regret  being  a  witness  of  those 
horrors.  I  can  more  thoroughly  sympathize  with 
my  whole  soul  in  your  undertaking." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  229 

"We  must  educate  your — our — Rudolph  to  carry 
on  these  attempts;  in  his  time,  perhaps,  the  dis- 
tant goal  may  be  discerned  on  the  horizon — in  ours 
it  is  not  visible.  What  a  noise  the  people  make 
upon  the  streets.  They  welcome  in  the  new  year 
as  jubilantly  as  they  did  the  last,  which  brought 
them  such  sorrow.  Oh,  how  men  forget!" 

"  Do  not  find  fault  with  this  forgetfulness.  Al- 
ready the  anguish  of  the  past  seems  to  me  a 
dream,  and  what  I  realize  to-day  is  the  happiness 
of  the  present,  the  happiness  of  having  you,  my 
love!  I  believe  we  have  a  sunny  future  before  us 
— but  we  will  not  speak  of  the  future.  United, 
devoted,  independent,  rich — how  much  enjoyment 
life  offers  us;  we  will  travel  and  see  the  world, 
the  great,  beautiful  world.  Beautiful  so  long  as  it 
rests  in  peace,  and  there  seems  now  no  prospect  of 
war;  and  if  there  were,  you  are  no  longer  obliged 
to  serve,  and  Rudolph  is  in  no  danger,  as  he  will 
not  become  a  soldier." 

"  But  suppose,  as  Minister  '  Upon  the  Whole '  re- 
ports, every  man  is  liable  to  duty?" 

"Nonsense;  but  what  I  meant  to  say  was,  we 
will  travel,  give  Rudolph  a  model  education  and — 
we  love  each  other." 

The  carnival  of  the  same  year  brought  with  it 
balls  and  entertainments  of  all  sorts.  Naturally 
we  took  no  part—my  mourning  kept  me  far  from 
everything  of  the  sort  What  surprised  me  was 
the  zest  with  which  society  threw  itself  into  every 
amusement.  There  must  have  been  a  loss  by 
death  in  every  family;  but  it  seemed  as  though 
they  had  mastered  grief.  It  is  true  a  few  houses 
remained  closed,  especially  among  the  aristocracy, 
but  the  young  people  lost  no  opportunity  to  dance, 
and  of  course  those  who  had  returned  safely  from 
the  Italian  or  Bohemian  battlefields  were  great 
favorites;  but  the  officers  of  the  navy  were  courted 
the  most — especially  those  who  had  seen  service  at 
Lissa.  Half  the  women  were  in  love  with  Tegethoff, 
the  youthful  admiral,  (just  as  they  were  with  the 


230  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

handsome  General  Gablenz  after  the  campaign 
of  Schleswig-Holstein).  "Custozza"  and  "Lissa," 
they  were  the  two  trumps  which  were  played  in 
every  conversation  upon  the  past  war.  Next  in 
order  were  the  needle  gun  and  militia  service,  two 
institutions  to  be  introduced  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible to  secure  future  victories.  Victories — when 
and  over  whom?  Of  that  no  one  had  any  partic- 
ular idea;  but  the  idea  of  revenge  which  every 
person  who  has  lost — even  if  only  at  a  game  of 
cards — is  accustomed  to  promise  himself,  pervaded 
all  the  promises  of  politicians.  If  we  did  not  our- 
selves choose  to  move  against  Prussia,  perhaps 
there  were  others  who  would  take  it  upon  them- 
selves to  revenge  us.  From  appearances,  France 
would  close  an  alliance  with  us,  and  much  was 
prophesied  in  diplomatic  circles  of  a  "  Revenge 
for  Sadowa,"  so  our  old  friend,  Minister  "  Upon 
the  Whole"  reported. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  following  spring  one  of 
those  famous  "black  spots"  again  appeared  on  the 
political  horizon.  The  matter  in  dispute  was  Lux- 
emburg. 

Luxemburg?  How  in  the  world  could  that  be 
so  important?  I  began  to  study  again,  as  I  had  in 
earlier  years  endeavored  to  master  the  Schleswig- 
Holstein  question.  The  name  had  no  meaning  for 
me  beyond  that  suggested  in  Luppe's  "Jolly  Stu- 
dent," where  a  "  Count  of  Luxemburg  wastes  his 
money — wastes  it,  wastes  it."  The  result  of  my 
investigation  was  as  follows: 

According  to  the  treaties  of  1814  and  1816  Lux- 
emburg belonged  to  the  King  of  the  Netherlands 
and  at  the  same  time  to  the  German  Bund.  Prus- 
sia had  the  right  to  maintain  a  garrison  in  the 
capital.  Now,  as  Prussia  had  broken  with  the 
Bund  in  1866,  how  could  it  maintain  its  right  to 
garrison?  That  was  the  irritating  question  in  dis- 
pute. The  Treaty  of  Prague  had  recognized  the 
new  system  in  Germany,  and  with  this  recognition 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  231 

the  old  position  of  Luxemburg  as  a  part  of  the 
Bund  must  be  abandoned.  Why,  then,  did  Prussia 
maintain  her  right  to  garrison?  The  Hollanders 
never  set  great  value  upon  the  possession  of  the 
Grand  Duchy;  King  William  III.  did  not  care  for 
it  and  was  willing  enough  to  deliver  it  up  to  France 
for  a  certain  amount,  to  go  into  his  private  purse. 
Secret  negotiations  began  between  the  King  and 
the  French  Cabinet.  Quite  right;  secrecy  is  the 
kernel  of  all  diplomacy.  The  people  must  not 
know  anything  of  the  differences;  if  matters  come 
to  blows  they  have  the  right  to  shed  their  blood. 
Why  they  shed  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  them. 

At  the  end  of  March  the  King  officially  reported 
his  negotiations,  and  when  he  telegraphed  his  ac- 
ceptance to  France  the  Prussian  embassador  at 
the  Hague  was  informed  of  it.  Thereupon  explana- 
tions began  with  Prussia.  Prussia  fell  back  upon 
the  guaranties  of  the  Treaty  of  1859,  the  same  upon 
which  Holland  relied.  Public  opinion  in  Prussia 
was  outraged  that  ancient  Germany  was  disrupted. 
Who  is  that — this  public  opinion?  Is  it  the  writer 
of  the  leading  editorials?  In  the  North  German 
Parliament  fiery  resolutions  were  passed.  Bis- 
marck remained  perfectly  cool  in  regard  to  Lux- 
emburg; he  took  occasion,  however,  to  make  prepa- 
rations for  war  with  France,  which  in  turn  made 
similar  preparations.  Oh!  how  I  recognized  this 
melody!  At  that  time  I  was  in  terror  of  a  fresh 
outbreak  in  Europe.  Of  instigators  of  mischief 
there  was  no  lack:  in  Paris  Cassagnac  and  Emile 
de  Girardin;  in  Berlin  Menzel  and  Heinrich  Leo. 
One  wonders  if  such  fire-brands  have  any  idea  of 
the  gigantic  character  of  their  criminality.  I  can 
scarcely  believe  it.  It  was  about  this  time,  though 
I  did  not  know  it  until  years  later,  that  Professor 
Simon  had  a  conversation  with  the  Crown  Prince 
Frederick  of  Prussia  upon  the  disturbing  question 
of  the  day. 

" '  If  France  and  Holland  have  already  made  terms,  that 
would  indicate  war." 


233  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  Whereupon  the  Crown  Prince,  in  the  greatest  excite- 
ment and  with  intense  feeling,  replied: 

" '  You  have  never  seen  war;  if  you  had  seen  it  you 
could  not  utter  the  word  so  indifferently.  I  have  seen  it 
and  I  say  to  you,  it  is  the  highest  duty  to  avoid  it  when 
it  is  possible  to  do  so.'  " 

This  time  it  was  avoided.  A  conference  was  held 
in  London,  which  agreed  upon  a  peaceful  solution 
of  the  difficulty.  Luxemburg  was  declared  neutral 
ground  and  Prussia  withdrew  her  garrison.  The 
friends  of  peace  breathed  freely,  but  there  were 
people  enough  to  be  found  who  complained  of  this 
arrangement — not  the  Emperor  of  the  French,  who 
wished  for  peace,  but  the  French  war  party.  Voices 
were  raised  in  Germany,  which  muttered  about 
"  the  surrender  of  a  bulwark,"  and  the  like.  But 
every  private  individual  who  informed  himself  as 
to  the  judgment  of  the  conference  was  satisfied. 
What  this  London  conference  had  attained  could 
always  be  secured,  and  the  rulers  of  states,  by  thus 
avoiding  war,  could  perform  what  Frederick  III., 
Frederick  the  Noble,  declared  to  be  their  highest 
duty. 

In  May  we  went  to  Paris  to  see  the  great  Expo- 
sition. 

I  had  not  yet  seen  the  great  cosmopolitan  city, 
and  the  brilliancy  of  its  life  dazzled  me.  The  em- 
pire was  in  the  full  flush  of  its  existence,  and  many 
of  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe  had  gathered 
there.  It  did  not  impress  me  as  the  capital  of  one 
country,  but  as  a  great  international  city.  Three 
years  later  it  was  bombarded  by  its  eastern  neigh- 
bor. All  the  nations  of  the  earth  had  collected  all 
they  could  offer  in  this  great  tournament  of  indus- 
try; so  much  that  was  wonderful,  useful,  or  artis- 
tic was  brought  together,  that  every  observer  must 
have  felt  pride  in  the  enormous  progress  of  the 
time  in  which  he  lived;  and  with  this  pride  must 
have  been  connected  the  hope  that  such  develop- 
ment of  civilization  would  no  more  be  threatened 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  233 

by  the  brutality  of  destruction.  All  the  guests  of 
the  Emperor  and  Empress,  kings,  princes,  and  di- 
plomatists, could  not  in  the  midst  of  accepted  hos- 
pitalities, festivities,  and  congratulations,  expect 
very  shortly  to  exchange  shots  with  their  enter- 
tainers. No;  I  breathed  easily.  This  whole  brill- 
iant Exposition  was  to  me  the  pledge  of  a  new 
era,  the  beginning  of  long,  long  years  of  peace. 
At  the  most  it  could  only  be  an  attack  of  Mongo- 
lian hordes  which  could  make  all  these  civilized 
nations  draw  the  sword;  but  against  each  other — it 
was  not  to  be  thought  of.  My  impressions  were 
deepened  by  the  intelligence  brought  us  of  a  favor- 
ite plan  of  Napoleon  III. — a  general  disarmament. 
Yes,  Napoleon  was  then  determined — I  have  been 
assured  of  it  by  his  nearest  friends  and  advisers — 
that  at  the  earliest  suitable  opportunity  he  would 
present  a  plan  to  all  European  powers  for  reducing 
their  armed  force  to  a  peace  footing.  That  was  a 
more  sensible  idea  than  general  disarmament.  The 
well  known  postulate  of  Kant  would  then  be  ful- 
filled, which  is  formulated  in  paragraph  third  of 
the  "Preliminary  Articles  to  Perpetual  Peace": 

"Standing  armies  must  in  time  entirely  cease  to  exist. 
They  are  a  continual  menace  to  other  states,  and  by  their 
apparent  preparation  will  incite  neighboring  nations  to 
range  themselves  in  arms,  a  condition  of  things  which 
will  know  no  limits,  and  which,  through  the  increased 
cost  of  maintaining  peace,  will  become  more  oppressive 
than  a  short  war;  thus  becoming  a  cause  of  war  to  escape 
this  burden." 

What  government  could  refuse  a  suggestion 
made  by  France  without  unmasking  itself  as  de- 
sirous of  conquest?  And  what  nation  would  not 
revolt  against  such  an  idea?  The  plan  must  suc- 
ceed. 

Frederick  did  not  agree  with  me  in  my  antici- 
pations. 

"  First  of  all,  I  doubt  whether  Napoleon  III. 
cherishes  any  such  plan,  and  if  he  did  the  pressure 
of  the  war  party  is  too  strong  for  him  to  resist  it. 


234  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

And  besides,  the  occupants  of  thrones  are  hindered 
by  the  great  public  opinion  of  their  surroundings. 
In  the  second  place  one  existent  body  will  not 
allow  itself  to  be  ordered  in  this  wise:  'Nothing 
for  you,  nothing  for  me.'  It  will  take  up  arms  at 
once." 

"Of  what  body  do  you  speak?" 

"The  regular  army.  This  is  an  organization 
independent  and  capable  of  supporting  itself.  At 
present  this  organization  is  in  the  heighth  of  its 
power,  and  as  you  see — through  the  general  militia 
system  to  be  introduced  in  all  countries — is  even 
on  the  point  of  extending  its  influence." 

"And  yet  you  will  fight  against  this  spirit? 

"Yes,  but  not  by  marching  up  to  it  and  exclaim- 
ing: 'Die,  monster!'  for  upon  such  an  invitation 
the  creature  will  scarce  do  me  the  pleasure  to 
stretch  itself  out  before  me.  But  I  wage  war 
against  it  when  I  am  striving  for  the  growth  of 
different,  though  now  but  a  feeble  order  of  life, 
which  as  it  develops  will  press  the  other  out  of 
existence.  For  my  metaphorical  style  of  speech, 
you,  Martha,  are  responsible.  It  was  you  who  in- 
troduced me  to  the  works  of  the  modern  scien- 
tists. I  have  learned  to  reason  that  the  conditions 
of  social  life  can  only  be  understood,  and  their 
future  course  predicted,  when  we  grasp  the  truth 
that  they  stand  subject  to  the  influence  of  the 
inexorable  law  of  development.  Of  this,  politi- 
cians and  dignitaries  of  state  have  not  the  remotest 
conception,  and  the  much  vaunted  military  class 
of  course  none  at  all.  A  few  years  ago  I  myself 
had  not  reached  this  appreciation  of  truth." 

We  lived  in  the  Grand  Hotel  on  the  Boulevard 
des  Capucines.  It  was  filled  for  the  most  part  by 
Englishmen  and  Americans.  Our  own  countrymen 
we  rarely  met;  the  Austrians  are  not  fond  of  trav- 
eling. We  did  not  seek  acquaintances;  I  had  not 
laid  aside  my  mourning.  My  son  Rudolph  was  of 
course  with  us.  He  was  eight  years  old  and  an 
exceedingly  clever  little  man.  We  had  engaged 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  235 

a  young  Englishman,  who  occupied  the  double 
position  of  tutor  and  nursery  maid.  During  our 
long  visits  to  the  Exposition  we  could  not  take 
Rudolph  with  us,  and  the  time  for  instruction  had 
come  for  him. 

New — new — new  was  the  whole  great  world  as 
here  displayed!  People  from  all  quarters  of  the 
globe,  the  richest  and  most  famous — I  was  fairly 
bewildered  by  it.  But  interesting  and  enchanting 
as  it  all  was,  I  longed  for  the  quiet  and  peace  of 
my  own  home,  with  my  husband  and  children — 
for  I  again  awaited  the  joy  of  becoming  a  mother — 
just  as  when  we  are  shut  out  from  the  world  we 
long  for  its  stirring  activity  and  life. 

We  had  not  entered  society  We  had  called 
upon  our  embassador,  Metternich,  and  declined 
his  offer  to  present  us  at  court.  We  sought  the 
acquaintance,  however,  of  the  most  noted  politi- 
cians and  literary  men,  partly  from  personal  inter- 
est, but  largely  to  forward  in  every  way  the  aim 
and  object  of  Frederick's  life.  We  occupied  our- 
selves when  at  home  in  the  collection  of  what 
we  called  a  "  Peace  Protocol " — a  sort  of  sketchy 
account  for  future  use  of  the  gradual  growth  of 
the  anti-war  sentiment.  A  feeble  protest  it  was 
indeed,  compared  with  the  tons  of  war  literature, 
but  if  there  were  no  seed  sown  there  could  be  no 
harvest.  When  one  remembers  this  one  need  not 
fear  the  future. 

Four  hundred  years  before  Christ,  Aristophanes  wrote 
a  comedy,  "  Peace,"  in  which  the  humane  tendency  is 
apparent. 

Greek  philosophy — later  transplanted  to  Rome — sug- 
gested and  defended  the  struggle  for  the  unity  of  man- 
kind. The  idea  was  upheld  from  the  time  of  Socrates, 
who  called  himself  a  citizen  of  the  world,  down  to  that 
of  Terence,  who  was  a  "stranger  to  nothing  human," 
and  including  Cicero,  who  declared  the  carttas  generis 
humani  the  highest  grade  of  perfection. 

Next  in  time  Virgil  appeared  with  his  famous  Fourth 
Eclogue,  that  shepherds'  poem,  which  represents  the 


236  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

world  enjoying  eternal  peace  under  the  mythological 
image  of  the  Golden  Age. 

During  the  Middle  Ages  the  popes  frequently  offered 
themselves  as  arbitrators  between  states,  but  generally  in 
vain. 

In  the  fifteenth  century  George  Podiebrad,  King  of 
Bohemia,  conceived  the  idea  of  organizing  a  league  of 
peace.  He  was  anxious  to  end  the  struggles  between  the 
Pope  and  the  Emperor,  and  appealed  to  Louis  XI.  of 
France,  who  declined  to  join  him. 

At  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  Henry  IV.  of 
France  suggested  a  plan  for  a  European  federation. 
After  he  had  relieved  his  own  kingdom  from  the  horrors 
of  a  religious  war,  he  wished  to  secure  peace  and  toler- 
ance for  the  future.  He  proposed  to  unite  the  sixteen 
states  in  which  Europe  was  then  divided  (Russia  and 
Turkey  were  considered  a  part  of  Asia)  in  one  common 
federation.  Each  of  the  sixteen  states  was  to  send  two 
members  to  a  European  parliament;  these  thirty-two 
members  were  to  secure  religious  toleration  and  settle  all 
international  disagreements.  As  each  state  would  pledge 
itself  to  abide  by  the  decision  of  parliament,  all  danger  of 
war  would  disappear.  The  King  imparted  his  plan  to  his 
minister  Sully,  who  received  it  with  enthusiasm  and 
began  negotiations  with  other  states.  Elizabeth  of  Eng- 
land, the  Pope,  Holland,  and  several  others,  agreed  to 
join  the  league;  Austria  refused  because  certain  territo- 
rial concessions  were  demanded.  A  campaign  seemed 
necessary  to  defeat  this  opposition.  France  organized  an 
army  with  the  declaration  that  the  sole  purpose  of  the 
war  was  in  the  interest  of  future  peace.  Henry  was 
on  the  point  of  setting  out  to  take  command  when  he 
was  murdered  by  an  insane  monk. 

None  of  his  successors  and  no  future  sovereign  took 
up  this  plan  for  securing  the  happiness  of  their  subjects. 
Regents  and  politicians  remained  faithful  to  the  old  war 
spirit,  but  the  thinkers  of  all  countries  never  lost  sight  of 
the  idea. 

In  the  year  1647  the  sect  of  the  Quakers  was  organized, 
whose  foundation  idea  was  the  condemnation  of  war. 
The  same  year  William  Penn  published  his  work  upon 
the  future  peace  of  Europe,  which  is  in  the  main  the  plan 
of  Henry  IV. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  appeared 
the  famous  book  "  La  Paix  perpetuelle,"  by  the  Abbe  de 
St.  Pierre.  About  the  same  time  a  Landgrave  of  Hesse 
developed  the  same  plan  and  Leibnitz  wrote  a  favorable 
commentary  upon  it. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  237 

Voltaire  is  the  author  of  the  expression,  "  Every  Euro- 
pean war  is  a  civil  war."  Mirabeau,  in  the  famous  ses- 
sion of  the  twenty-fifth  of  August,  1790,  says  the  follow- 
ing: 

"  Perhaps  the  hour  is  not  far  distant  when  Freedom  as 
absolute  sovereign  of  both  worlds  will  fulfill  the  wish  of 
the  philosophers:  relieve  mankind  from  the  crime  of  war 
and  proclaim  eternal  peace.  Then  the  happiness  of  the 
people  will  be  the  sole  object  of  the  legislature,  the  sole 
glory  of  the  nations." 

In  the  year  1795  Immanuel  Kant,  one  of  the  greatest 
thinkers  of  all  time,  wrote  his  treatise  upon  "  Eternal 
Peace."  The  Englishman  Bentham  joined  the  ranks  of 
the  representatives  of  peace,  followed  by  Fourier,  Saint- 
Simon,  and  others.  Beranger  wrote:  "  The  Holy  Alliance 
of  Peoples"  ;  Lamartine  his  "  La  Marseillaise  de  la  Paix." 
In  Geneva  Count  Cellon  organized  a  peace  union,  in  whose 
name  he  began  a  propaganda  correspondence  with  all 
European  powers.  From  America  the  learned  black- 
smith, Elihu  Burritt,  scattered  his  "Olive  Branches"  and 
"  Sparks  from  an  Anvil "  in  pamphlets  throughout  the 
world,  and  was  the  chairman  of  a  convention  of  English 
friends  of  peace.  At  the  Paris  congress,  which  put  an 
end  to  the  Crimean  war,  the  diplomatists  conceived  an 
idea  in  the  interest  of  peace,  when  they  introduced  a 
clause  into  the  treaty,  by  which  the  powers  pledged 
themselves  to  consider  conditions  of  peace  before  the 
beginning  of  future  conflicts.  This  clause  is  the  germ 
of  the  idea  of  international  jurisdiction,  but  was  never 
observed. 

In  the  year  1863  the  French  government  proposed  to 
call  a  congress  of  the  powers,  to  consider  the  means  of 
bringing  about  general  disarmament  and  a  combined 
agreement  to  avoid  future  wars. 

Few  were  the  pages  of  my  note-book.  Later 
many  were  added  to  it.  They  only  prove  that  the 
possibility  of  the  peace  of  the  world  has  not  for 
centuries  been  entirely  unconsidered.  Here  and 
there  the  voices  have  been  heard,  sometimes  with 
long  periods  of  time  between,  but  never  wholly 
silenced,  though  often  unnoticed  and  unheard.  It 
has  from  time  immemorial  been  the  same  with  all 
progress,  all  development,  all  discovery  and  all 
invention: 


338  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

"  From  the  south  land  spring  approaches. 

At  her  coming,  far  and  near 
Feeble  twitterings  in  the  branches 

Swell  in  chorus  full  and  clear. 
So,  within  time's  great  cathedral, 

Midnight  watchers  wait  the  hour, 
And  the  sweet  chime's  silvery  summons; 
Then  the  music  bursts  in  power." 

(Mdrzrotk!) 

Again  my  hour  of  trial  approached. 

But  this  time  the  husband  was  at  my  side — his 
proper  place — where  through  his  gentleness  and 
his  sympathy  the  suffering  of  the  wife  may  be  miti- 
gated. The  thought  that  he  was  with  me  made  me 
almost  forget  my  pain. 

A  girl!  That  had  been  our  quiet  wish.  We 
knew,  through  our  little  Rudolph,  the  joy  a  son 
might  bring  us,  and  that  our  little  Sylvia  would 
become  a  model  of  beauty,  cleverness,  and  sweet- 
ness, we  did  not  doubt. 

How  selfish  happiness  makes  us!  A  time  fol- 
lowed when  all  else  was  forgotten  outside  our  own 
domestic  heaven.  The  terrors  of  the  cholera  week 
faded  into  a  dream-like  remembrance,  and  Fred- 
erick's energy  in  pursuit  of  his  idea  waxed  some- 
what faint.  It  was,  in  truth,  discouraging  when- 
ever one  broached  the  subject  to  be  met  by  shrugs 
of  the  shoulder,  a  sort  of  pitying  smile,  and  even 
condemnation.  The  world  prefers,  it  seems,  to  be 
not  only  deceived,  but  made  unhappy.  When  one 
proposes  a  means  to  put  an  end  to  misery  and  suf- 
fering one  is  met  by  "  Utopia!"  "  a  childish  dream ! " 
and  no  one  will  listen. 

But  after  all  Frederick  never  lost  sight  of  his 
ideal.  He  became  absorbed  in  the  study  of  human 
rights,  opened  a  correspondence  with  Bluntschli, 
and  projected  the  writing  of  a  great  work  to  be 
called  "  War  and  Peace." 

"  I  am  an  old  imperial  officer,"  he  said,  "  and 
most  men  belonging  to  my  rank  and  station  would 
be  ashamed  to  begin  to  learn  and  study — a  man  of 
my  age  generally  considers  it  beneath  his  dignity. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  239 

But  as  a  new  point  of  view  was  opened  to  me  after 
I  became  imbued  with  the  modern  spirit,  I  was 
oppressed  by  my  lack  of  knowledge.  Now  as  the 
opportunity  was  not  granted  me  in  my  youth,  I 
must  make  up  for  the  loss,  even  if  I  have  silver 
threads  in  my  hair." 

The  winter  after  Sylvia's  birth  we  spent  quietly 
in  Vienna.  In  the  following  spring  we  visited 
Italy.  To  know  the  world  belonged  to  our  pro- 
gramme of  life.  Traveling  with  little  children  is 
something  of  a  burden,  but  with  a  sufficient  number 
of  attendants  it  becomes  possible.  I  had  sent  for 
an  old  servant  who  had  been  the  nurse  of  my 
sisters,  and  who  had  subsequently  married  and 
become  a  widow. 

Frau  Anna  was  worthy  of  the  utmost  confidence, 
and  with  her  I  could  safely  leave  my  little  Sylvia 
when  Frederick  and  I  undertook  little  journeys 
from  our  temporary  headquarters.  Rudolph  was 
also  safe  with  his  tutor,  Mr.  Foster. 

Lovely,  beautiful  days!  It  is  a  pity  I  kept  no 
record  of  them. 

I  had  the  opportunity  to  add  one  bright  page  to 
our  Protocol.  It  was  a  newspaper  article  signed 
"Desmoulins "  in  which  a  proposition  was  made 
that  the  French  government  set  the  example  to 
European  states  of  disarmament. 

"By  this  means  France  will  secure  the  alliance  and 
friendship  of  all  nations,  who  will  then  cease  to  fear  her 
whose  help  they  need.  General  disarmament  will  natur- 
ally follow,  the  principle  of  conquest  will  be  abandoned, 
and  the  confederation  of  states  will  agree  to  an  inter- 
national court  of  justice,  empowered  to  consider  all  ques- 
tions which  are  now  deemed  cause  of  war.  By  such  a 
course  France  would  secure  the  only  real  durable  power 
— that  founded  on  right — and  a  new  era  would  be  opened 
to  humanity." — Opinion  Nationale,  25  July,  1868. 

No  influence  was  exerted  by  this  article. 

In  the  winter  of  1868-9  we  returned  to  Paris, 
and  this  time  plunged  into  the  great  world  of 
society. 


240  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

It  was  an  enjoyable  though  sometimes  wearisome 
season.  We  had  rented  a  small  furnished  house  in 
the  Champs  Elysees,  where  we  could  entertain  our 
various  friends,  by  whom  we  were  daily  invited 
to  numerous  social  events.  Our  embassador  pre- 
sented us  at  court  and  we  became  frequent  guests 
at  the  Monday  receptions  of  the  Empress.  The 
salons  of  all  the  foreign  embassadors  were  open  to 
us,  as  well  as  those  of  the  Princess  Mathilde,  the 
Duchess  de  Mouchy  and  Queen  Isabella  of  Spain. 
All  the  literary  notabilities  of  the  time  were  enter- 
tained at  our  house,  all  except  the  greatest — Victor 
Hugo — who  was  in  exile.  But  we  knew  Renan,  the 
two  Dumas,  George  Sand,  and  others.  We  went  to 
a  masque  ball  given  by  the  author  of  "Les  Grandes 
Dames,"  Arsene  Houssaye.  It  was  his  custom  to 
give  a  Venetian  masquerade  once  during  the  season 
in  his  superb  little  hotel  in  the  Avenue  Friedland, 
where,  under  the  protection  of  a  masque,  the  so- 
ciety women  of  the  upper  ranks  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  the  noted  actresses  and  singers  in 
all  the  brilliancy  of  their  diamonds  and  their  wit. 

In  the  whirl  of  so  fascinating  a  place  of  amuse- 
ment it  is  so  easy  to  forget  all  except  this  heartless 
and  thoughtless  life.  We  forget  that  the  real  world 
lies  outside  of  all  this,  and  domestic  happiness  is 
too  apt  to  be  shipwrecked.  But  we  were  deter- 
mined not  to  lose  our  hold  upon  our  own  hearth- 
stone, nor  our  deep  interest  in  universal  interests. 

Much  sympathy  was  always  expressed  in  Paris 
society  with  Austrians.  Allusions  were  frequently 
made  to  a  possible  future  revenge  for  Sadowa,  as  if 
the  past  could  ever  be  made  good  by  revenge.  We 
always  rejected  such  suggestions  and  assured  all 
that  we  only  desired  perpetual  peace. 

Such  was  at  this  period — so  it  was  said  at  least — 
the  earnest  desire  of  Napoleon  III.  We  were  inti- 
mately associated  with  those  who  surrounded  him, 
when  we  were  assured  of  this  and  of  his  project 
actually  to  propose  a  general  disarmament.  But 
the  most  intense  dissatisfaction  existed  amongst 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  241 

the  people,  and  close  to  the  Emperor  stood  a  party 
who  considered  it  impossible  to  suppress  this  ex- 
cept by  diverting  toward  a  popular  foreign  war 
the  dangerous  antagonism  against  the  throne — a 
sort  of  grand  promenade  on  the  Rhine,  by  which 
means  the  Napoleon  dynasty  was  to  be  secured.  It 
had  been  very  unfortunate  that  the  Luxemburg 
matter  had  failed,  but  it  could  no  longer  be  made 
a  cause  of  contention.  But  that  in  the  long  run 
war  between  Prussia  and  France  was  unavoidable 
was  a  mooted  question,  of  which  we  read  in  the 
newspapers  but  were  not  influenced  by  its  repeti- 
tion. 

The  brilliant  season  reached  its  height  in  the 
spring  months.  It  is  the  time  of  the  drives  in  the 
Bois,  the  exhibition  of  the  salon,  the  races,  the 
picnics — besides  the  theatres,  receptions,  dinners 
and  soirees,  which  were  not  less  popular  than  in 
winter.  We  began  to  long  for  rest  This  sort  of 
a  life  has  no  charm  unless  love-making  and  flirting 
are  added  to  it.  Young  ladies,  looking  for  a  suit- 
able match,  women  who  allow  men  to  make  love  to 
them,  and  men  hunting  an  adventure — for  all  these 
every  new  opportunity  of  meeting  the  object  of 
one's  dreams  is  eagerly  sought — but  Frederick  and 
I?  That  I  was  faithful  to  my  husband,  that  no  one 
dared  cherish  any  hopes  of  my  interest,  is  a  matter 
of  course,  which  I  mention  without  any  special  vir- 
tuous pride.  Whether,  under  other  circumstances, 
I  should  have  been  able  to  resist  the  temptations 
encompassing  a  young  and  pretty  woman  I  do  not 
pretend  to  say,  but  when  one  is  possessed  by  so 
deep  and  happy  a  love  as  I  felt  for  Frederick,  one 
is  armed  against  all  danger. 

As  summer  approached,  the  "  Grand  Prize"  was 
won  and  the  different  members  of  society  began  to 
leave  Paris — some  to  go  to  Trouville,  to  Biarritz 
and  Vichy,  others  to  Baden-Baden,  others  still  to 
their  estates — Princess  Mathilde  to  St.  Gratien,  the 
court  to  Compiegne.  We  were  overwhelmed  with 


242  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

invitations  to  join  the  travelers,  and  to  visit  the 
houses  of  our  friends.  But  we  were  determined 
not  to  carry  the  social  campaign  of  the  winter  into 
the  summer  months.  I  did  not  desire  to  return  as 
yet  to  Grumitz,  I  feared  the  awakening  of  sorrow- 
ful memories,  and  on  account  of  our  many  rela- 
tives and  friends  there  we  could  not  have  secured 
any  privacy.  We  again  chose  a  quiet  spot  in  Switz- 
erland for  our  abiding  place.  We  promised  our 
Parisian  friends  to  return  the  following  winter,  and 
set  out  upon  our  journey. 

Europe  then  seemed  careless  and  quiet.  At  least 
there  were  no  "black  spots,"  and  we  heard  no  more 
of  a  revenge  for  Sadowa.  The  greatest  annoyance 
was  that  the  general  military  service  was  then  in- 
troduced in  Austria.  That  Rudolph  should  ever 
become  a  soldier  was  unendurable  to  me.  And  peo- 
ple will  talk  about  liberty! 

"  A  year  a  volunteer,"  Frederick  said  to  comfort 
me;  "that  is  not  much." 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Not  if  it  were  but  a  day.  No  human  being 
should  be  compelled  to  a  service  which  he  detests, 
even  for  a  day,  for  on  this  day  he  must  assume  to 
do  with  delight  what  he  abhors — in  short,  he  must 
lie — and  I  mean  to  train  my  son  for  the  truth." 

"Then  he  ought  to  have  been  born  a  few  cen- 
turies later! "  replied  Frederick.  "  It  is  true  one 
cannot  be  an  entirely  free  man.  Truth  and  free- 
dom have  a  hard  lot  in  our  day — that  I  realize  the 
deeper  I  go  in  my  studies." 

Frederick  now  had  more  time  to  devote  to  his 
special  work,  and  he  renewed  it  with  redoubled 
zeal.  Happy  as  we  were  in  our  quiet  nest,  we 
were  determined  to  return  to  Paris  in  the  winter, 
not  to  enjoy  ourselves  as  before,  but  to  devote 
ourselves  to  the  object  of  our  lives.  We  built  all 
our  plans  upon  the  furtherance  of  the  idea  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon,  and  hoped  to  get  his  ear 
through  our  friends.  Frederick  desired  to  direct 
his  attention  to  the  plan  of  Henry  IV.,  which  he 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  243 

had  found  narrated  at  length  in  Sully's  Memoirs; 
at  the  same  time  we  hoped,  through  the  Minis- 
ter of  Finance,  our  old  friend,  to  secure  the  atten- 
tion of  the  government  of  Austria,  and  Frederick 
had  in  Berlin  a  relative  of  influential  position,  pop- 
ular at  court,  through  whom  it  might  be  brought 
to  the  consideration  of  Prussia. 

In  December,  when  we  were  about  to  return  to 
Paris  we  were  somewhat  hindered.  Our  treasure 
— our  little  Sylvia — was  taken  ill.  Those  were  anx- 
ious hours,  and  with  the  fear  of  the  death  of  our 
child,  Napoleon  III.  and  Henry  IV.  stepped  into 
the  background. 

But  she  did  not  die.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks 
all  danger  was  over.  But  it  was  not  safe  to  travel 
and  our  departure  was  delayed  until  March. 


244  "GROUND  ARMS f" 

SIXTH  BOOK. 

1870-71. 

PRESENTIMENTS?  There  are  none.  Were  it 
otherwise,  Paris  could  never  have  made  such 
a  delightful  impression  upon  me  as  it  did  that 
sunny  afternoon  of  March,  1870,  when  we  again 
entered  it.  We  know  to-day  what  frightful  events 
followed  close  upon  that  time,  but  I  felt  then  not 
the  slightest  misgiving. 

Before  our  arrival  we  had  engaged  the  same  little 
palace  which  we  had  occupied  the  preceding  year, 
and  the  same  maitre  <T  hotel  greeted  us  at  the  sta- 
tion. As  we  crossed  the  Champs  Elysees  we  met 
numerous  acquaintances,  for  it  was  the  hour  for 
driving  in  the  Bois — and  exchanged  cordial  saluta- 
tions. The  many  little  violet  carts,  which  at  this 
time  of  the  year  are  rolled  about  the  streets  of 
Paris,  filled  the  air  with  a  thousand  promises  of 
spring;  the  sunbeams  sparkled  and  played  with 
all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  in  the  fountain  of 
the  circle,  and  glittered  on  the  lamps  and  silver- 
trimmed  harness  of  the  procession  of  carriages. 
Among  others,  the  beautiful  Empress  drove  by 
waving  her  hand  to  me  in  recognition. 

There  are  certain  scenes  and  pictures  which  pho- 
tograph and  phonograph  themselves  upon  the  mem- 
ory with  their  accompanying  feelings  and  words. 
"How  beautiful  Paris  is!"  exclaimed  Frederick, 
and  my  feelings  were  those  of  childish  delight  at 
the  prospect  of  again  living  in  this  most  charming 
spot.  Had  I  but  known  what  awaited  me — what 
fate  held  in  store  for  this  thoughtless,  brilliant  city! 

We  had  determined  to  avoid  for  this  season  the 
gay  society  into  which  we  had  plunged  the  few 
last  months  of  our  preceding  visit.  We  declined 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  245 

all  invitations  to  balls  and  visited  the  theatre  but 
rarely,  and  so  it  chanced  that  our  evenings  were 
spent  at  home  alone,  or  with  some  few  friends  who 
sought  us  there. 

It  was  claimed  that  Napoleon  III.  had  not  aban- 
doned his  plan,  but  the  time  was  not  ripe  for  it. 
The  throne  was  not,  at  best,  on  the  surest  founda- 
tions, and  great  dissatisfaction  prevailed  among 
the  people.  To  prevent  an  outbreak  all  police  reg- 
ulations were  sternly  enforced — which  only  excited 
greater  distrust.  The  only  thing,  the  people  were 
accustomed  to  say,  which  would  secure  the  dynasty 
was  a  fortunate  campaign.  There  seemed  no  pros- 
pect of  war,  but  there  was  no  more  talk  of  disarma- 
ment; that  would  have  utterly  destroyed  the  halo 
surrounding  the  Bonapartes,  which  depended  upon 
the  inherited  glory  of  the  great  Napoleon.  We 
heard  no  encouraging  report  either  from  Prussia  or 
Austria.  It  was  the  era  of  general  increase  of  the 
armed  force  (the  word  army  had  become  unfash- 
ionable), so  that  the  suggestion  of  disarmament 
fell  only  upon  deafened  ears.  To  insure  peace  it 
appeared  to  be  necessary  to  arm  more  men;  the 
French  were  not  to  be  trusted,  neither  were  the 
Russians,  nor  most  of  all  the  Italians;  they  would 
fall  upon  Trieste  and  Trent,  if  they  had  half  an 
opportunity — in  short,  the  thing  to  do  was  to  push 
the  universal  military-service  system. 

"  The  time  is  not  yet  ripe,"  said  Frederick,  when 
we  received  such  reports;  "and  the  hope  that  I 
personally  may  hasten  the  development  of  the  idea 
of  the  peace  of  nations  I  must  probably  abandon. 
But  from  the  hour  that  I  dedicated  myself  to  this 
work,  even  the  little  I  could  do  became  to  me  the 
most  important.  I  bide  my  time." 

If  for  the  present  the  project  of  disarmament 
had  to  go  by  the  board,  I  still  had  one  satisfac- 
tion: there  was  no  immediate  prospect  of  war.  The 
war  party  at  court  and  among  the  people,  which 
asserted  that  the  dynasty  should  be  re-baptized  in 
blood,  must  give  up  all  present  hope  of  a  cam- 


246  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

paign  on  the  Rhine  boundaries.  France  had  no 
allies;  the  country  suffered  from  a  severe  drought; 
a  failure  of  crops  was  anticipated  and  forage  was 
scarce;  the  horses  of  the  army  must  be  sold,  the 
contingent  of  recruits  was  declared  unnecessary, 
there  was  nowhere  any  political  complication;  in 
short,  Ollivier  took  occasion  to  declare  from  the 
rostrum:  "The  peace  of  Europe  is  assured." 

Assured!  I  rejoiced  over  this  word.  All  the 
papers  repeated  it  and  many  thousands  rejoiced 
as  I  did.  What  greater  good  can  be  found  for 
most  men  than  the  certainty  of  peace? 

What  this  security  was  worth,  which  was  so 
emphatically  assured  us  by  a  noted  statesman,  we 
all  know  now.  We  ought  then  to  have  known  that 
these  diplomatic  assertions  which  the  public  receive 
with  such  simple  confidence  are  no  surety  of  truth. 
The  European  situation  presents  no  doubtful  ques- 
tion; therefore  peace  is  assured.  What  feeble  logic! 
Disturbing  questions  may  be  made  to  turn  up  any 
day;  the  point  would  be  to  be  prepared  for  some 
other  method  of  settlement  than  through  war;  then 
we  should  be  safely  beyond  the  possibility  of  it. 

Again  Parisian  society  was  scattered  to  the  four 
winds  of  heaven.  We  remained  in  town  on  ac- 
count of  business.  We  had  the  opportunity  of 
purchasing  at  an  exceedingly  profitable  price  a 
new,  half-completed  hotel  in  the  Avenue  de  1'Im- 
peratrice.  As  we  intended  to  spend  a  portion  of 
every  year  in  Paris  we  preferred  to  own  a  home. 
With  the  fascinating  prospect  ahead  of  furnishing 
our  own  nest  and  completing  the  house  according 
to  our  mind  we  were  content  to  spend  the  summer 
in  town. 

Many  pleasant  friends  owned  country  houses 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris.  The  palace  of  the 
Princess  Mathilde,  St.  Gratien,  the  Palace  Mouchy, 
and  Baron  Rothschild's  home,  Ferrieres,  were  at  no 
great  distance,  and  once  or  twice  a  month  we  vis- 
ited them  all. 


"GROUND  A  RMS  I"  347 

I  distinctly  remember  it  was  in  the  parlors  of 
the  Princess  that  I  first  learned  that  there  was 
another  doubtful  question  floating  in  the  air. 

The  party  sat  upon  the  terrace — after  breakfast 
a  la  fourchette — with  a  charming  view  of  the  park. 
Who  were  there?  Some  I  cannot  remember;  only 
two  made  a  particular  impression  upon  me — Taine 
and  Renan.  The  intellectual  hostess  of  St.  Gratien 
loved  to  surround  herself  with  distinguished  liter- 
ary and  scientific  personages. 

The  conversation  was  animated,  and  I  remember 
that  it  was  Renan  chiefly  who  led  the  bright  and 
witty  talk.  The  author  of  "The  Life  of  Jesus"  is 
a  remarkable  example  of  how  one  can  be  incon- 
ceivably ugly  and  at  the  same  time  inconceivably 
fascinating. 

Politics  had  its  turn,  for  the  Spanish  throne  was 
vacant.  It  was  said  that  a  prince  of  Hohenzollern 
was  a  candidate.  I  scarcely  noticed  even  the  name, 
for  of  what  possible  consequence  could  it  be  to 
any  of  us,  who  sat  upon  the  Spanish  throne.  But 
some  one  said: 

"  A  Hohenzollern?  France  will  not  tolerate  that." 

The  remark  cut  me  to  the  heart,  for  too  well 
I  knew  what  this  "not  tolerate"  always  meant. 
When  that  is  said  in  the  name  of  a  nation,  one 
sees  in  imagination  the  spirit  of  the  country  per- 
sonified as  a  gigantic  female  statue,  with  her  head 
thrown  back  defiantly  and  her  hand  on  the  sword 
hilt. 

The  subject  was  idly  discussed  and  soon  dropped, 
for  not  one  of  us  could  have  the  least  presentiment 
of  the  fearful  results  of  this  question  of  the  Spanish 
succession. 

From  this  time  on  the  Spanish  question  became 
more  and  more  obtrusive.  Daily  the  newspapers 
increased  the  space  allotted  to  its  discussion;  most 
of  them  regarded  it  as  an  intentional  provocation 
of  war  on  the  part  of  Prussia.  Letters  from  Berlin, 
however,  assured  us  that  at  court  it  was  not  re- 
garded as  of  any  importance  whether  a  Hohenzol- 
lern occupied  the  Spanish  throne  or  not. 


248  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

Gradually  we,  too,  became  more  attentive  to  the 
course  of  events.  Like  the  rustle  of  the  branches 
of  trees  before  a  storm,  there  was  a  premonitory 
murmur  among  the  people.  Nous  aurons  la  guerre — 
nous  aurons  la  guerre !  resounded  through  the  Pari- 
sian streets.  Then  I  was  seized  with  unspeakable 
terror — not  on  my  own  account,  for  we  Austrians 
were  beyond  the  reach  of  ill,  though  much  was 
said  to  us  about  revenge  for  Sadowa.  But  we  had 
forgotten  to  consider  war  from  a  national  stand- 
point; for  us  the  humane,  the  broad  international 
view  was  the  only  possible  one. 

When  the  news  arrived  that  Prim  had  offered 
the  crown  to  Prince  Leopold,  the  Duke  de  Gram- 
mont  made  an  address  in  the  French  Chamber, 
which  was  received  with  great  applause: 

"  We  do  not  interfere  in  foreign  affairs,  but  we  do  not 
believe  that  a  respect  for  the  rights  of  a  neighboring  state 
requires  us  to  tolerate  the  attempts  of  a  strange  power 
to  set  a  prince  upon  the  throne  of  Charles  V.,  a  measure 
which  would  disturb  the  balance  of  power  of  all  Europe 
(O  this  balance  of  power !  what  blood-thirsty  diplomatic 
hypocrite  invented  this  hollow  phrase?),  and  thus  put 
the  interests  and  honor  of  France  in  danger." 

I  know  a  little  story  by  George  Sand,  called 
"  Gribouille."  This  Gribouille  had  the  habit  of 
throwing  herself  into  the  river  at  the  approach  of 
rain  for  fear  of  getting  wet.  When  I  hear  that 
war  must  be  carried  on  in  order  to  ward  off  threat- 
ened danger  I  think  of  Gribouille.  A  whole  race 
of  Hohenzollerns  could  have  been  set  upon  the 
throne  of  Charles  V.,  and  a  dozen  other  thrones, 
without  disturbing  the  interests  or  honor  of  France, 
or  doing  one  thousandth  part  of  the  damage  which 
arose  from  this  defiant  "We  cannot  tolerate." 

"We  feel  certain,"  continued  the  speaker,  "that  this 
event  will  not  occur.  We  count  in  this  respect  upon  the 
wisdom  of  the  German  and  upon  the  friendship  of  the 
Spanish  people.  Should  it  happen  otherwise,  then,  gen- 
tlemen, we  shall  understand  how,  through  your  support 
and  that  of  the  nation,  to  do  our  duty  without  hesitation 
and  without  timidity."  [Storms  of  applause.] 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  249 

From  now  on  the  war  mania  possessed  the  public 
press.  It  was  Girardin,  particularly,  who  could 
scarce  do  enough  to  fire  the  hearts  of  his  country- 
men against  the  unheard-of  impudence  which  was 
at  the  very  bottom  of  this  Spanish  proposition.  It 
would  be  the  duty  of  France,  in  order  to  maintain 
her  dignity,  to  put  a  veto  upon  it;  naturally  Prus- 
sia would  not  refrain  even  then,  for  it  was  her 
interest  to  foment  war.  Inflamed  by  the  success 
of  the  campaign  of  1866,  Prussia  now  believed  it 
possible  to  march  over  the  Rhine  to  new  conquests; 
but  we  are  here,  God  be  praised,  to  stem  the  pas- 
sions of  the  pointed  helmets.  In  this  tone  he  kept 
it  up.  Napoleon  III.  himself  wished  for  peace; 
but  those  about  him  were  mainly  of  the  opinion 
that  war  was  unavoidable,  especially  as  the  people 
were  dissatisfied  with  the  government.  The  best 
that  could  be  done  to  restore  confidence  was  a  suc- 
cessful campaign. 

One  after  the  other  European  cabinets  declared 
themselves  to  be  in  favor  of  peace.  In  Germany 
a  manifesto  was  published,  signed  by  Liebknecht 
among  others,  wherein  it  was  declared  that  the 
very  thought  of  a  war  between  France  and  Ger- 
many was  a  crime.  Through  this  circular  I  became 
aware  "that  a  great  association  existed  of  a  hun- 
dred thousand  members,  whose  object  was  the  abo- 
lition of  all  injurious  tendencies  and  prejudices  of 
classes  and  of  the  nation."  All  this  was  in  the 
line  of  modern  thought,  and  the  little  sentence 
could  be  added  to  my  peace  protocol. 

Benedetti  was  entrusted  with  the  mission  to  de- 
mand of  the  King  of  Prussia  that  he  forbid  Prince 
Leopold  to  accept  the  crown.  King  William  was 
at  that  time  in  Ems;  Benedetti  went  there,  and  on 
the  ninth  of  July  was  granted  an  audience. 

The  reply  of  the  King  was  that  as  the  Prince 
had  arrived  at  years  of  discretion  he  could  not  for- 
bid his  doing  anything. 

This  answer  threw  the  war  party  into  spasms 
of  delight.  "They  are  determined  to  drive  us  to 


250  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

extremities.  How  absurd!  The  head  of  the  house 
cannot  command  the  obedience  of  a  member?  it  is 
a  mere  excuse.  The  Hohenzollerns  are  determined 
to  get  possession  of  Spain  and  then  they  will  fall 
upon  us  from  the  north  and  south.  Are  we  to  wait 
for  that?  Are  we  to  endure  the  humiliation  that 
our  protest  is  not  respected?  Never!  we  know  what 
honor,  what  patriotism  demands." 

Louder  and  louder,  more  and  more  threatening 
muttered  the  approaching  storm.  At  last,  on  the 
twelfth  of  July,  a  despatch  was  published  which 
filled  me  with  delight.  Don  Salusto  Olozaga  offi- 
cially informed  the  French  government  that  Prince 
Leopold  of  Hohenzollern,  in  order  that  there  might 
be  no  pretext  for  war,  had  declined  the  Spanish 
crown.  The  announcement  was  made  at  twelve 
o'clock  in  the  Chamber,  and  Ollivier  declared  that 
this  was  the  end  of  the  matter.  On  the  same  day, 
however  (apparently  the  result  of  previous  orders), 
troops  and  materials  were  despatched  to  Metz,  and 
during  the  same  session  Clement  Duvernois  made 
the  following  interpellation: 

"  What  security  have  we  that  Prussia  will  not  again  stir 
up  complications  similar  to  this  pretension  to  the  Spanish 
crown?  We  must  be  prepared  to  meet  them." 

Gribouille  again  bestirred  herself:  It  is  just  pos- 
sible— a  little  rain  threatens  to  make  us  wet;  let 
us  jump  into  the  river  as  quickly  as  possible. 
Again  Benedetti  was  despatched  to  Ems  to  de- 
mand that  the  King  of  Prussia  at  once  and  for  the 
future,  forbid  Prince  Leopold  from  again  present- 
ing himself  as  a  candidate.  Was  it  possible  under 
such  provocation  for  the  king  to  do  otherwise  than 
impatiently  to  shrug  his  shoulders? 

On  the  fifteenth  of  July  there  was  a  remarkable 
session.  Ollivier  requested  an  appropriation  of  five 
hundred  millions  for  the  war.  Thiers  voted  against 
it.  Ollivier  replied  that  he  would  be  responsible  to 
history.  The  King  of  Prussia  had  declined  to  re- 
ceive the  French  embassador,  who  had  by  despatch 
informed  the  government  of  this  fact.  The  Left 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  251 

demanded  to  see  the  despatch.  The  majority  tu- 
multuously  and  by  vote  forbade  the  publication  of 
this  despatch  (which  probably  had  no  existence). 
The  majority  granted  everything  the  government 
asked.  Such  patriotic  willingness  for  sacrifice, 
which  without  a  shudder  welcomes  ruin,  was  nat- 
urally immensely  admired  and  described  with  all 
the  euphonious,  ready-made,  customary  phrases. 

England  made  an  attempt  to  prevent  the  war. 
In  vain;  if  there  had  been  a  recognized  interna- 
tional court  of  jurisdiction  how  easily  this  conflict 
might  have  been  avoided. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  July,  the  French  embas- 
sador  in  Berlin  presented  the  formal  declaration 
of  war  to  the  Prussian  government. 

A  declaration  of  war!  We  speak  of  it  so  coolly. 
What  does  it  mean?  The  beginning  of  an  action, 
the  result  of  political  intrigue,  and  incidentally  the 
sentence  of  death  of  half  a  million  human  beings. 

This  document  I  copied  into  my  red  note-book: 

"The  government  of  his  Majesty,  the  Emperor  of  the 
French,  could  only  consider  the  elevation  of  a  Prussian 
prince  to  the  throne  of  Spain  as  an  undertaking  danger- 
ous to  the  territorial  security  of  France,  and  has  there- 
fore found  it  necessary  to  demand  of  the  King  of  Prussia 
the  assurance  that  a  similar  combination  will  not  receive 
his  support  in  the  future.  Since  his  Majesty  declined  to 
give  this  assurance,  and,  on  the  contrary,  declared  to  our 
embassador  that  he  reserved  to  himself  the  right  of  in- 
quiry into  such  possible  events,  the  imperial  government 
must  recognize  in  this  declaration  of  the  King  a  sup- 
pressed intention,  which  is  threatening  to  France  and  the 
balance  of  power  in  Europe  (there  it  is  again,  this  famous 
balance  of  power).  This  declaration  has  become  of  more 
serious  character  through  the  report  communicated  to 
the  ministry  of  the  refusal  to  receive  the  Emperor's 
plenipotentiary  and  enter  into  further  discussion  of  the 
subject  (so  it  seems  that  a  more  or  less  friendly  inter- 
course between  regents  and  diplomatists  settles  the  fate 
of  peoples).  As  a  result  of  this  course  the  French  gov- 
ernment considers  it  its  duty  without  delay  to  think  of  the 
defense  (yes,  yes,  defense — never  attack)  of  its  outraged 
dignity  and  its  outraged  interests.  Determined  to  adopt 


252  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

all  measures  to  this  end,  which  are  offered  it  by  existing 
circumstances,  it  considers  itself  from  now  on  in  the  con- 
dition of  war  with  Prussia." 

Condition  of  war!  Does  he  who  sitting  at  the 
diplomatic  table  sets  this  word  down  on  paper 
realize  that  he  has  dipped  his  pen  in  flames,  in 
bloody  tears,  in  the  poison  of  disease? 

So  on  account  of  a  vacant  throne  seeking  an 
occupant,  and  the  consequent  carefully  nursed,  un- 
reasonable dissensions  between  two  monarchs,  the 
storm  was  brought  upon  us.  Was  Kant  right 
when  he  set  down,  as  the  first  definite  stride  to  in- 
sure continual  peace,  that: 

"  The  civil  constitution  of  every  state  should  be  repub- 
lican." 

In  truth,  through  the  introduction  of  this  system 
many  causes  of  war  would  disappear,  for  history 
records  that  the  great  majority  of  wars  are  under- 
taken to  settle  some  question  of  dynasty,  and  that 
all  establishment  of  monarchical  power  rests  upon 
martial  conquest.  Republics  have  made  war  to 
maintain  national  life.  But  in  any  case  it  is  the 
old,  barbaric  spirit  still,  the  taint  of  heredity,  not 
yet  over-mastered  by  development,  which  fans  the 
flame  of  hate,  and  of  love  of  victory  and  conquest. 

I  remember  the  peculiar  frame  of  mind  which 
took  possession  of  me  when  this  war  broke  out. 
The  whole  population  was  in  a  ferment  and  who 
could  escape  the  infection?  Naturally,  according 
to  old  custom,  the  beginning  of  the  campaign  was 
regarded  as  a  triumphant  march;  that  is,  of  course, 
a  patriotic  duty.  ' '  A  Berlin,  ci  Berlin!  "  resounded 
through  the  streets  and  was  chanted  from  the  tops 
of  the  omnibuses;  the  Marseillaise  was  heard  on 
every  corner:  Le  jour  de  gloire  est  arrival  At  every 
theatrical  performance  the  leading  actress  or  singer 
— at  the  opera  it  was  Marie  Sass — must  appear 
before  the  curtain  in  the  costume  of  Joan  of  Arc 
and,  carrying  the  national  colors,  must  sing  this 
battle  song — the  audience  rising  and  generally 
joining  in  the  chorus.  Frederick  and  I  realized 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  253 

one  evening  the  might  of  this  popular  enthusiasm, 
and  were  compelled  to  rise  to  our  feet — compelled 
because  we  were  electrified. 

"See,  Martha,"  exclaimed  Frederick,  "this spark 
which  spreads  from  one  to  another,  uniting  this 
whole  mass  and  making  every  heart  beat  higher, 
is  love " 

"  Do  you  believe  so?     It  is  a  song  inspiring  hate." 

"That  makes  no  difference;  a  common  hatred  is 
but  another  form  of  love.  When  two  or  three  or 
more  are  bound  together  by  the  same  feeling,  they 
love  one  another.  When  the  time  arrives  for  a 
nobler,  broader  aspiration  than  the  interests  of 
nationality,  namely,  the  cause  of  humanity,  then 
our  ideal  will  be  attained." 

"Ah,  when  will  that  time  come?"  I  sighed. 

"  When?  One  can  speak  but  relatively.  As  a 
length  of  time  compared  with  our  personal  exist- 
ence— never;  when  compared  with  the  existence  of 
our  race — to-morrow." 

When  war  breaks  out  the  inhabitants  of  neutral 
states  divide  into  two  camps;  one  siding  with  this, 
the  other  with  that  party,  as  if  there  were  a  great 
stake  in  which  every  one  had  a  share.  We  were 
unconsciously  influenced  by  our  earlier  interests. 
Frederick  was  of  Prussian  descent  and  the  Ger- 
man language  was  my  own.  The  declaration  of  war 
had  been  made  by  the  French  on  such  insignificant 
grounds — mere  pretenses — that  we  must  recognize 
the  cause  of  the  Prussians  as  more  justly  repre- 
senting that  of  defense,  since  they  were  forced  into 
the  contest.  It  was  inspiriting  to  note  with  what 
enthusiasm  the  Germans,  but  so  shortly  before  at 
strife  among  themselves,  now  trooped  together. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  July,  in  his  address  from  the 
throne,  King  William  said: 

"  The  German  and  French  nations,  both  in  like  degree 
enjoying  the  blessings  of  Christian  civilization  and  in- 
creasing prosperity,  are  called  to  a  more  beneficent  rivalry 
than  the  bloody  one  of  arms.  But  the  ruler  of  France, 


254  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

instigated  by  personal  interests  and  passions,  has  been 
able,  through  misleading  statements,  to  excite  the  justi- 
fiable though  excitable  vanity  of  our  great  neighbors." 

The  Emperor  Napoleon  on  his  part  issued  the 
following  proclamation: 

"  Because  of  the  arrogant  claims  of  Prussia  we  were 
obliged  to  protest.  These  protests  have  been  met  with 
ridicule.  Events  followed  which  indicated  a  contempt 
for  us.  Our  country  has  been  deeply  incensed  thereby 
and  instantly  the  battle-cry  has  been  heard  from  one  end 
of  France  to  the  other.  There  is  nothing  to  be  done 
except  to  consign  our  fate  to  the  lot  drawn  by  war.  We 
do  not  war  against  Germany,  whose  independence  we 
respect.  We  have  the  most  earnest  desire  that  the  peo- 
ple who  compose  the  great  German  nation  may  be  the 
arbiters  of  their  own  destiny.  What  we  desire  is  the 
establishment  of  a  condition  of  things  which  will  insure 
our  present  security  and  make  our  future  safe.  We  de- 
sire a  permanent  peace,  founded  upon  the  true  interests 
of  peoples;  we  wish  that  this  miserable  condition  should 
end  and  that  all  nations  use  all  possible  means  to  secure 
general  disarmament." 

What  a  lesson,  what  a  striking  lesson  this  docu- 
ment is  when  we  consider  it  in  connection  with  the 
events  which  followed.  In  order  to  be  sure  of 
safety,  in  order  to  attain  permanent  peace  this  war 
was  begun  by  France.  And  what  was  the  result? 
"  The  Terrible  Year"  and  enduring  hatred.  No,  no; 
one  does  not  use  charcoal  to  paint  a  thing  white, 
nor  asafcetida  to  perfume  a  room,  nor  war  to  secure 
peace. 

I  could  not  believe  that  the  war  would  be  a  long 
one.  What  were  they  fighting  about?  Really 
nothing  at  all.  It  was  a  sort  of  grand  parade 
undertaken  by  the  French  from  a  spirit  of  advent- 
ure— by  the  Germans  as  a  duty  of  defense.  One 
might  expect  a  few  saber  thrusts,  and  the  antago- 
nists would  again  shake  hands.  Fool  that  I  was! 
As  if  the  results  of  war  bore  any  adequate  rela- 
tion to  its  cause.  The  course  of  it  determines  the 
result. 

We  would  have  gladly  left  Paris,  for  the  enthu- 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  255 

siasm  of  the  population  pained  us  immeasurably. 
But  the  way  eastward  was  blocked;  our  house  was 
not  completed — in  short,  we  remained.  All  of  our 
acquaintances  who  could  get  away  had  fled,  and 
excepting  a  few  literary  men,  we  had  no  visitors. 
Frederick  was  much  interested  at  just  this  phase 
of  the  war  to  note  the  sentiment  among  the  most 
noted  of  these  men.  A  young  writer,  the  later 
famous  Guy  de  Maupassant,  once  expressed  my 
own  feelings  so  perfectly  that  I  entered  his  words 
in  my  journal: 

"  War — when  I  think  of  this  word  I  shudder  as  if  one 
talked  of  the  Inquisition,  or  of  a  distant,  horrible,  unnat- 
ural thing.  War — to  kill  one  another,  cut  each  other 
down!  And  we  have  to-day — in  our  times,  with  our  cul- 
ture, with  our  extensive  knowledge  in  the  higher  planes 
of  development,  which  we  flatter  ourselves  to  have  at- 
tained— we  still  have  schools  to  teach  men  how  to  kill,  to 
kill  in  the  most  scientific  manner  and  as  many  as  possible. 

It  is  wonderful  that  the  people  do  not  rise  against  this 
thing,  that  the  whole  of  society  does  not  revolt  at  the 
mere  mention  of  war.  He  who  rules  is  in  duty  bound 
to  avoid  war,  as  the  captain  of  a  ship  is  bound  to  avoid 
shipwreck.  When  a  captain  loses  his  ship  he  is  required 
to  answer  for  it,  in  case  it  is  discovered  that  he  has  been 
remiss  in  duty.  Why  should  not  every  government  be 
called  to  account  when  it  declares  war?  If  the  people 
understood  how  to  refuse  to  allow  themselves  to  be 
killed  without  just  cause,  war  would  cease." 

Ernest  Renan,  also,  let  us  hear  from  him: 

"  Is  it  not  heart-breaking  to  think  that  all  that  we  men 
of  science  have  sought  to  accomplish  the  past  fifty  years 
is  destroyed  at  a  blow:  the  sympathy  between  peoples, 
the  mutual  understanding,  the  fruitful,  united  work? 
How  such  a  war  destroys  the  love  of  truth!  What  lies, 
what  defamation  of  a  nation  will  from  now  on,  for  the 
next  fifty  years,  be  believed  by  each  of  the  other  and 
divide  them  for  an  incalculable  time!  How  it  will  retard 
the  progress  of  Europe!  We  cannot  build  up  in  a  hun- 
dred years  what  these  men  have  torn  down  in  one  day." 

I  also  had  the  opportunity  of  reading  a  letter 
which  Gustave  Flaubert  wrote  during  those  first 
July  days  to  George  Sand.  Here  it  is: 


256  "GROUND  ARM  SI" 

"I  am  in  despair  at  the  stupidity  of  my  countrymen. 
The  incorrigible  barbarism  of  humanity  fills  me  with  the 
deepest  grief.  This  enthusiasm  inspired  by  not  one  rea- 
sonable idea  makes  me  long  to  die  that  I  may  not  witness 
it.  Our  good  Frenchmen  will  fight:  first,  because  he 
believes  himself  called  out  by  Prussia;  secondly,  because 
the  natural  condition  of  man  is  that  of  barbarism;  thirdly, 
because  war  possesses  a  mystical  element  which  carries 
mankind  away.  Have  we  returned  to  a  war  of  races?  I 
am  afraid  so.  The  horrible  battles  which  we  prepare  for 
have  not  a  single  pretext  to  excuse  them.  It  is  simply 
the  pleasure  of  fighting  for  fighting  itself.  I  regret  the 
bridges  and  tunnels  that  will  be  blown  to  pieces,  all  this 
svuperb  work  of  man  which  will  be  destroyed.  I  notice 
that  a  member  of  the  Chamber  proposes  the  plundering 
of  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden.  Ah,  I  wish  I  were  with 
the  Bedouins." 

"Oh!"  I  cried,  as  I  read  this  letter,  "if  we  had 
only  been  born  five  hundred  years  later — that 
would  be  better  than  the  Bedouins." 

"  Mankind  will  not  take  so  long  to  become  rea- 
sonable," replied  Frederick  confidently. 

It  was  now  again  the  era  of  proclamations  and 
army  orders. 

Always  the  same  old  song,  and  always  the  same 
enthusiasm  and  applause  of  the  populace.  There 
was  the  same  rejoicing  over  promised  victories  as 
if  they  had  been  already  won. 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  July  Napoleon  III.  pub- 
lished the  following  proclamation  from  his  head- 
quarters in  Metz.  I  copied  this,  not  out  of  admi- 
ration, but  because  of  anger  over  its  everlasting 
hollow  phrases: 

"  We  defend  the  honor  and  soil  of  our  native  land. 
We  will  be  victorious.  Nothing  is  too  great  for  the 
sturdy  endurance  of  the  soldiers  of  Africa,  the  Crimea, 
China,  Italy,  and  Mexico.  Once  more  they  will  show 
what  a  French  army  inspired  by  a  love  of  country  is 
capable  of  accomplishing.  Whichever  way  we  turn  out- 
side of  our  borders  we  find  the  marks  of  the  valor  of  our 
fathers.  We  will  prove  ourselves  worthy  of  them.  Upon 
our  success  hangs  the  fate  of  freedom  and  civilization. 
Soldiers,  do  your  duty,  and  the  God  of  Battles  will  be 
with  you." 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  257 

Oh,  of  course,  it  would  not  do  to  leave  out  "the 
God  of  Battles."  That  the  leaders  of  vanquished 
armies  have  a  hundred  times  promised  the  same, 
does  not  prevent  the  claim  of  special  protection 
being  set  up  at  every  fresh  campaign  in  order  to 
awaken  the  same  confidence.  Is  anything  shorter 
than  the  memory  of  a  people  or  anything  feebler 
than  their  logic? 

On  the  thirty-first  of  July  King  William  left 
Berlin  and  issued  the  following  manifesto: 

"To-day,  before  I  leave  to  join  the  army,  to  fight  with 
it  for  the  honor  and  preservation  of  all  dearest  to  us,  I 
proclaim  a  general  amnesty  for  all  political  offenses.  My 
people  know  that  we  were  not  guilty  of  enmity  and  breach 
of  faith.  But  being  attacked  we  are  resolved,  as  were 
our  fathers,  in  firm  reliance  upon  God,  to  endure  the 
struggle  for  the  rescue  of  our  country." 

Defense,  defense,  that  is  the  only  dignified  sort 
of  death;  therefore  both  sides  cry:  "I  defend  my- 
self." Is  that  not  a  contradiction?  Not  quite — 
for  over  each  a  third  power  rules,  the  might  of  the 
old  hereditary  war  spirit.  If  they  would  only  de- 
fend themselves  against  that! 

Next  to  the  above-mentioned  manifesto  I  find 
in  my  note-book  a  curious  story  with  this  singular 
heading: 

"  If  Ollivier  had  married  the  daughter  of  Meyerbeer 
would  this  war  have  broken  out?  " 

Among  our  Parisian  acquaintances  was  the  lit- 
erary man,  Alexander  Weill,  who  asked  the  above 
question  and  answered  it  in  the  same  breath: 

"Meyerbeer  sought  a  talented  husband  for  his 
second  daughter  and  his  choice  fell  on  my  friend, 
Emile  Ollivier.  Ollivier  is  a  widower.  His  first 
wife  was  a  daughter  of  Liszt.  This  marriage  was 
a  happy  one  and  Ollivier  had  the  reputation  of 
being  a  faithful  husband.  He  had  no  fortune,  but 
as  an  orator  and  statesman  he  was  famous.  Mey- 
erbeer wished  to  know  him  personally,  and  with 
this  object  I  gave  a  ball — in  April  of  the  year  1864 
— where  most  of  the  celebrities  of  art  and  science 


258  "GROUND  ARMS  I" 

were  assembled,  and  where  Ollivier,  who  had  been 
informed  by  me  of  Meyerbeer's  object,  naturally 
played  the  leading  role.  He  pleased  Meyerbeer. 
The  affair  was  not  easy  to  manage.  Meyerbeer 
knew  the  independent  originality  of  his  daughter, 
who  could  never  be  induced  to  marry  a  man  except 
of  her  own  free  choice.  It  had  been  decided  that 
Ollivier  should  go  to  Baden  as  if  by  chance,  and 
should  be  presented  to  the  young  lady,  when  four- 
teen days  after  the  ball  Meyerbeer  suddenly  died. 
It  was  Ollivier,  you  remember,  who  delivered  the 
funeral  oration  at  the  Northern  Railroad  station. 
Now,  I  insist  that  if  Ollivier  had  married  Meyer- 
beer's daughter  this  war  would  never  have  oc- 
curred. In  the  first  place,  Meyerbeer,  who  hated 
the  empire  to  the  verge  of  contempt,  would  never 
have  allowed  Ollivier  to  become  a  minister  of  the 
Emperor.  We  all  know  that  if  Ollivier  had  threat- 
ened to  resign  if  war  were  declared,  the  Chamber 
would  never  have  declared  war.  The  present  con- 
test is  the  work  of  three  intimate  friends  of  the 
Empress:  Jerome  David,  Paul  de  Cassagnac,  and 
the  Duke  de  Grammont.  The  Empress,  incited  by 
the  Pope,  whose  religious  puppet  she  is,  wished  to 
see  this  war,  of  whose  success  she  never  doubts, 
in  order  to  secure  the  succession  of  her  son.  She 
said:  '  C'est  ma  guerre  a  mo\  et  a  man  fils, '  and  the 
three  above  named  were  the  secret  tools  who,  by 
means  of  false  rumors  and  pretended  despatches 
from  Germany,  had  compelled  the  Emperor,  who 
wished  for  peace,  to  consent  to  fight.  The  Cham- 
ber was  ready  to  declare  war,  at  any  rate." 

"That  is  called  diplomacy!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  But  hear  the  rest,"  continued  Alexander  Weill. 
"On  the  fifteenth  of  July,  Ollivier,  whom  I  met 
on  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  said  to  me:  'Peace  is 
certain — or  else  I  will  resign.'  How  does  it  happen 
that  the  same  man,  a  few  days  later,  instead  of 
sending  in  his  resignation,  supports  the  war  with 
all  his  heart,  as  he  declared  in  the  Chamber?" 

"A  frivolous  heart!"  I  cried  with  a  shudder. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  259 

"This  is  the  secret,  which  I  will  tell  you.  The 
Emperor,  who  regards  gold  as  of  no  value  except 
to  buy  love  and  friendship — he  believes,  like  Jugur- 
tha  of  Rome,  that  all  France  is  corrupt,  men  as  well 
as  women — is  accustomed,  when  he  appoints  a  min- 
ister who  is  not  rich,  to  make  him  a  present  of  a 
million  of  francs  to  bind  him  to  himself.  Daru, 
who  told  me  this,  would  not  accept  this  present: 
timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes.  And  he  alone,  not 
being  bound,  tendered  his  resignation.  So  long  as 
the  Emperor  vacillated,  Ollivier  declared  himself 
neutral  or  for  peace.  So  soon  as  the  Emperor  was 
over-persuaded  by  the  Empress  and  her  three 
ultramontane  agents,  Ollivier  also  declared  him- 
self for  war  and  died  to  honor  with  a  light  heart 
and  a  full  purse." 

"O  Monsieur,  O  Madame,  what  news!"  With 
these  words  Frederick's  valet  and  the  cook  behind 
him  rushed  into  our  sitting-room.  It  was  the  day 
of  the  Battle  of  Worth. 

"A  despatch  has  arrived.  The  Prussians  are  as 
good  as  absolutely  crushed.  The  city  is  being 
decorated  with  tri-colored  flags,  it  will  be  illumi- 
nated to-night." 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  further  despatches 
proved  that  the  first  was  false — a  maneuver  of  the 
Bourse.  Ollivier  addressed  a  crowd  from  the  bal- 
cony of  his  house.  Fortunately  we  escaped  the  il- 
lumination, this  method  of  expressing  delight  over 
beaten  armies, — that  is  to  say,  over  countless  dead 
and  crippled,  and  thousands  of  broken  hearts,  the 
bare  thought  of  which  moved  me  to  wish  with 
Flaubert  that  I  were  with  the  Bedouins. 

On  the  seventh  of  August  there  was  a  rumor  of 
disaster.  The  Emperor  hastened  from  St.  Cloud 
to  the  seat  of  war.  The  enemy  had  crossed  the 
frontier  and  was  marching  inland.  The  papers 
could  not  express  their  indignation  in  strong 
enough  terms.  I  had  imagined  that  the  shout  a 
Berlin!  meant  a  similar  invasion.  But  that  these 


260  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

eastern  barbarians  should  dare  the  same  thing — 
should  march  into  beautiful  and  beloved  France — 
this  seemed  pure,  audacious  villainy,  and  must  be 
stopped  at  once. 

The  provisional  Minister  of  War  published  an 
order  calling  upon  all  able-bodied  citizens  between 
thirty  and  forty  years  of  age  to  enroll  themselves  in 
the  National  Guard.  A  ministry  for  defense  of  the 
interior  was  organized.  The  appropriation  was 
increased  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  million 
of  francs.  It  is  refreshing  to  notice  how  free  the 
authorities  are  with  the  money  and  lives  of  others. 
An  unpleasant  little  occurrence  disturbed  the  con- 
venience of  the  public;  if  one  wanted  to  change  a 
bank-note  he  was  obliged  to  pay  a  broker  ten  per 
cent.  There  was  not  sufficient  gold  to  keep  the 
notes  of  the  Bank  of  France  at  par. 

Now  followed  victory  after  victory  on  the  part 
of  the  Germans. 

The  aspect  of  Paris  and  its  inhabitants  under- 
went an  astonishing  change.  In  the  place  of  the 
proud,  boastful,  war-loving  humor,  dismay  and 
vindictive  anger  appeared.  The  impression  that 
a  horde  of  vandals  were  ready  to  devour  the  land 
was  widespread.  That  the  French  had  called 
down  this  storm  upon  themselves  they  never  con- 
sidered; or  that  they  had  done  it  to  prevent  some 
Hohenzollern  in  the  distant  future  from  conceiv- 
ing a  fancy  for  the  Spanish  throne — that  they  also 
forgot.  The  most  astonishing  stories  were  told 
of  the  ferocity  of  the  invaders,  "The  Uhlans,  the 
Uhlans!"  the  words  had  a  sort  of  fantastic  demo- 
niac sound,  as  if  they  had  talked  about  the  armies 
of  Satan.  In  the  imagination  of  the  people  these 
troops  became  demons.  Whenever  a  particularly 
bold  stroke  was  reported  it  was  at  once  ascribed 
to  the  Uhlans.  They  were  said  to  be  recruited 
to  serve  for  booty  and  without  pay.  Mixed  up 
with  these  recitals  of  terror  were  stories  of  occa- 
sional triumphs.  To  lie  about  success  is  naturally 
the  chief  duty  of  the  sensationalist,  for  of  course 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  261 

the  courage  of  the  populace  must  be  kept  up.  The 
law  of  veracity — like  many  other  laws  of  morality 
— loses  its  force  in  times  of  war.  Frederick  read 
to  me  from  the  Le  Volontaire,  the  following,  to  be 
inscribed  in  my  note-book: 

"  Up  to  the  sixteenth  of  August  the  Germans  have 
lost  one  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand  men,  the  re- 
mainder are  on  the  verge  of  starvation.  The  reserves 
from  Germany,  the  '  landwehr '  and  '  landsturm,'  are  arriv- 
ing; old  men  of  over  sixty,  with  flint-lock  muskets,  carry- 
ing on  one  side  a  huge  tobacco  pouch,  on  the  other 
a  big  flask  of  brandy,  with  a  long  clay  pipe  in  the  mouth, 
are  staggering  under  the  weight  of  the  knapsacks,  coffee- 
mills,  and  packages  of  elderberry  tea.  Coughing  and 
groaning,  they  are  crossing  from  the  right  to  the  left  bank 
of  the  Rhine,  cursing  those  who  have  torn  them  from 
the  arms  of  their  grandchildren  to  thrust  them  into  the 
clutches  of  death.  The  reports  we  get  from  the  German 
press  of  victorious  battles  are  all  the  usual  Prussian  lies." 

On  the  twentieth  of  August  Count  Palikao  in- 
formed the  Chamber  that  three  army  corps,  which 
had  united  against  Bazaine,  had  been  thrown  into 
the  quarries  of  Jaumont.  It  is  true  no  one  had  the 
remotest  idea  where  these  stone  quarries  were,  or 
how  it  happened  that  the  three  army  corps  were 
kept  there.  From  tongue  to  tongue  the  joyful  tid- 
ings spread  and  everybody  acted  as  if  they  had  been 
born  in  the  region  of  Jaumont  and  of  course  knew 
all  about  the  quarries.  At  the  same  time  there 
was  a  current  report  that  the  King  of  Prussia  had 
become  insane  over  the  condition  of  his  army. 

All  sorts  of  atrocities  were  reported;  the  excite- 
ment among  the  population  increased  hourly.  The 
engagement  of  Bazaille  near  Metz  was  described 
as  if  the  Bavarians  had  been  guilty  of  most  inhu- 
man barbarity. 

"  Do  you  believe  this? "  I  said  to  Frederick.  "  Do 
you  believe  these  stories  of  the  good-natured  Bava- 
rians?" 

"  They  are  possible.  Whether  a  man  is  Bavarian 
or  Turk,  German,  French,  or  Indian  makes  no  par- 
ticular difference;  when  he  takes  his  life  in  his 


262  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

hands  and  fights  to  destroy  others  he  ceases  to  be 
human.  All  that  is  awakened  and  strongest  within 
him  is  the  beast." 

Metz  is  taken.  The  report  resounded  through 
the  city  like  a  shriek  of  terror. 

To  me  the  news  of  the  capture  of  a  fortress 
brought  relief  rather  than  dismay.  Were  we  not 
probably  nearer  the  end?  But  after  every  defeat 
each  side  strains  itself  to  the  utmost  for  a  fresh 
trial  of  strength;  possibly  the  fortune  of  war  may 
turn.  Usually  the  advantage  is  first  on  one  side 
next  on  the  other;  on  both  sides  there  is  certain 
sorrow  and  certain  death. 

Trochu  felt  himself  called  upon  to  arouse  the 
courage  of  the  population  by  a  fresh  proclamation, 
calling  upon  them  with  the  motto  of  Bretagne, 
"With  God's  help  for  our  native  land."  That  does 
not  sound  quite  new  to  me — I  must  have  heard 
something  similar  to  it  in  other  proclamations.  It 
did  not  fail  of  its  effect,  however;  the  people  were 
encouraged.  Next  we  were  told  Paris  must  be 
fortified.  Paris  a  fortress!  I  could  scarcely  grasp 
the  thought.  The  city  which  Victor  Hugo  called, 
"la  ville-lumiere",  the  loadstar  of  the  whole  civil- 
ized, rich,  art-  and  life-loving  world,  the  radiating 
point  of  splendor,  of  fashion,  of  the  intellect — this 
city  must  fortify  itself,  that  is,  must  be  the  aim  of 
the  enemy's  attacks,  the  target  of  bombardment, 
and  run  the  risk  of  destruction  through  fire  and 
hunger.  And  these  people  proceeded  to  the  work 
with  gaiety  of  heart,  with  the  zeal  of  pleasure,  with 
self-sacrifice,  as  if  they  were  bringing  to  completion 
the  noblest,  most  useful  work  in  the  world.  Ram- 
parts to  be  manned  by  infantry  were  built  with  em- 
brasures, earthworks  were  thrown  up  before  the 
gates,  canals  were  covered,  and  surmounted  by  par- 
apets, powder  magazines  were  built,  and  a  flotilla  of 
barges,  carrying  cannon,  was  put  upon  the  Seine. 
What  a  fever  of  activity;  what  an  expenditure  of 
strength  and  nerve;  what  monstrous  cost  of  labor 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  263 

and  money!  If  all  had  only  been  so  cheerfully  and 
nobly  devoted  to  works  of  true  utility; — but  for 
the  purpose  of  destruction,  which  had  no  object 
except  that  of  a  strategic  checkmate,  it  was  incon- 
ceivable! 

To  be  prepared  for  a  long  siege  the  city  was 
amply  provisioned.  But  it  is  the  experience  of 
ages  that  no  fortification  has  existed  which  has 
been  impregnable — capitulation  is  solely  a  matter 
of  time.  Yet  fortifications  are  still  erected,  they 
are  still  provisioned,  notwithstanding  the  mathe- 
matical impossibility  of  maintaining  them,  in  the 
long  run,  against  starvation. 

The  preparations  were  made  on  an  enormous 
scale.  Mills  were  erected  and  stockyards  filled; 
yet  the  hour  must  come  when  the  corn  would  all 
_be  ground  and  the  flesh  all  eaten.  But  so  far  ahead 
as  this  no  one  thought;  of  what  use?  Long  before 
that  the  enemy  would  be  driven  from  the  country. 
The  entire  male  force  of  the  city  was  enrolled  in 
the  National  Guard  and  all  possible  were  drawn 
from  the  country.  What  difference  did  it  make  if 
the  provinces  were  laid  in  ashes?  Such  insignifi- 
cant events  were  not  to  be  considered,  when  there 
was  prospect  of  a  national  disaster.  On  the  seven- 
teenth of  August  sixty  thousand  provincial  troops 
had  already  arrived  in  Paris.  The  sailors  were  all 
ordered  in,  and  daily  new  companies  were  organ- 
ized under  different  names,  such  as  volontaires,  Eclair- 
curs,  or  franc-tireurs. 

With  an  ever-increasing  activity  events  followed 
events.  All  around  there  was  heard  but  one  ex- 
pression, "death  to  the  Prussians."  A  storm  of 
the  wildest  hatred  was  gathering — it  had  not  yet 
broken  out.  In  all  the  official  reports,  in  all  the 
street  disturbances  we  heard  of  but  one  aim — 
"death  to  the  Prussians."  All  these  troops,  regu- 
lar and  irregular,  all  these  munitions  of  war,  all 
these  busy  workmen  with  spade  and  barrow,  all 
that  one  saw  and  heard,  in  form  or  tone,  surged 


264  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

and  threatened  "death  to  the  Prussians!"  Or,  in 
other  words,  it  sounds  really  like  the  cry  of  love 
and  inspires  even  tender  hearts — "  all  for  one  coun- 
try " — but  it  is  one  and  the  same  thing. 

"You  are  of  Prussian  descent,"  I  said  to  Fred- 
erick one  day,  "  how  do  these  expressions  of  hatred 
affect  you?" 

"You  asked  me  the  same  question  in  the  year 
1866,  and  then  I  answered,  as  I  must  to-day,  that  I 
suffer  under  these  demonstrations  of  hatred,  not  as 
a  Prussian,  but  as  a  man.  When  I  reflect  upon  the 
feelings  of  these  people  from  a  national  stand- 
point, I  can  only  regard  them  as  justifiable;  they 
call  it  the  sacred  hatred  of  the  enemy,  and  this 
sentiment  forms  an  important  incentive  to  military 
patriotism.  They  have  but  one  thought — to  free 
their  country  from  the  presence  of  the  antagonist. 
They  forget  that  they  caused  the  invasion  by  their 
declaration  of  war.  They  did  not  do  it  themselves, 
but  it  was  their  government  in  which  they  believed. 
They  waste  no  time  in  reflections  or  in  recrimina- 
tions; the  misfortune  is  upon  them  and  every  mus- 
cle, every  nerve  is  strained  to  meet  it,  or  with  reck- 
less self-sacrifice  they  will  all  go  to  destruction 
together.  Believe  me,  there  is  untold  capacity  in 
the  love  of  mankind;  the  pity  of  it  is  that  we  waste 
it  in  the  old  rut  of  hatred.  And  the  enemy,  the 
'red-haired,  eastern  barbarians!' — what  are  they 
doing?  They  were  called  out  and  they  invade  the 
land  which  threatened  theirs.  Do  you  remember 
how  the  cry,  a  Berlin,  a  Berlin,  resounded  through 
the  streets?" 

"Now  the  others  march  upon  Paris!  Why  do 
the  Parisian  shouters  call  that  a  crime?" 

"  Because  there  is  neither  logic  nor  justice  in  that 
national  feeling  whose  chief  principle  is,  we  are 
we — that  is,  the  first, — the  others  are  barbarians. 
That  march  of  the  Germans  from  victory  to  victory 
fills  me  with  admiration.  I  have  been  a  soldier 
and  know  what  an  inspiration  the  idea  of  victory 
has,  what  pride,  what  intense  delight.  It  is  the 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  265 

reward  for  all  suffering,  for  the  renunciation  of  rest 
and  happiness,  for  the  life  at  stake." 

"Why  do  not  the  victors  admire  the  vanquished, 
if  they  know  all  that  victory  means  to  those  who 
are  soldiers  like  themselves?  Why  do  not  the  army 
reports  of  the  losing  party  contain  the  sentence: 
the  enemy  has  won  a  glorious  victory? " 

"Why?  I  repeat,  the  war  spirit  and  patriotic 
egotism  are  the  destruction  of  all  justice." 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  August  all  Germans 
were  ordered  to  leave  Paris  within  three  days.  I 
had  the  opportunity  to  see  the  effect  of  this  order. 
Many  Germans  had  been  citizens  of  Paris  for  ten 
and  twenty  years,  had  married  Parisians,  but  were 
now  compelled  to  leave  everything — home,  business 
and  property. 

Sedan!  The  Emperor  had  surrendered  up  his 
sword.  The  report  overpowered  us.  Then  truly 
a  terrible  catastrophe  had  occurred — Germany  had 
won  and  the  butchery  was  over. 

"  It  is  over,"  I  cried.  "  If  there  are  people  who 
are  citizens  of  the  world,  they  may  illuminate  their 
windows;  in  the  temples  of  humanity  Te  Deums 
can  now  be  sung — the  butchery  is  over." 

"  Do  not  rejoice  too  soon,"  Frederick  warned 
me.  "This  war  has  long  lost  the  character  of  a 
battle  game  of  chess,  the  whole  nation  is  in  arms. 
For  one  army  destroyed  ten  new  ones  will  spring 
out  of  the  soil." 

"Is  that  just?  These  are  only  German  soldiers, 
not  the  German  nation." 

"Why  always  talk  of  justice  and  reason  in  the 
presence  of  a  madman.  France  is  mad  with  pain 
and  terror,  and  from  the  standpoint  of  the  love 
of  country  her  rage  is  just,  her  sorrow  sacred. 
Personal  interest  is  not  considered,  only  the  loftiest 
self-sacrifice.  If  the  time  would  only  come  when 
the  noble  virtues  common  to  humanity  could  be 
torn  from  the  work  of  destruction  and  united  for 
the  blessing  of  the  race!  But  this  unholy  war  has 


266  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

again  driven  us  back  a  long  way  from  the  attain- 
ment of  this  goal." 

"  No,  no,  I  hope  the  war  is  at  an  end." 

"  If  so,  which  I  much  doubt,  the  seeds  of  future 
wars  are  sown  and  the  seeds  of  hate,  which  will 
outlast  this  generation." 

On  the  fourth  of  September  another  great  event 
occurred.  The  Emperor  was  deposed  and  France 
was  declared  a  republic.  With  the  destruction  of 
the  throne  the  leaves  were  torn  out  of  the  book  of 
France  which  told  the  story  of  Metz  and  Sedan. 
It  was  Napoleon  and  his  dismissed  generals,  who- 
through  cowardice,  treachery,  and  bad  tactics  had 
been  responsible  for  all  this  disaster — but  not 
France.  France  would  now  carry  on  the  war  if 
the  Germans  still  dared  to  continue  the  invasion. 

"  How  would  it  have  been  had  Napoleon  and 
his  generals  been  victorious?"  I  asked  when  Fred- 
erick told  me  this  latest  news. 

"Then  they  would  have  accepted  his  success  as 
the  success  of  France." 

"  Is  there  any  justice  in  that?  " 

"  Why  will  you  not  break  yourself  of  the  habit 
of  asking  that  question?" 

My  hope  that  with  Sedan  the  war  would  end  was 
soon  dissipated.  The  frenzied  orations,  the  atro- 
cious pamphlets  which  were  now  made  and  pub- 
lished, and  rained  down  upon  the  unfortunate  Em- 
peror and  Empress  and  the  unlucky  generals,  were 
absolutely  disgusting.  The  rough  masses  held  that 
they  could  lay  upon  these  few  the  responsibility 
for  the  general  disaster.  The  preparations  for  the 
defense  of  Paris  were  carried  on  with  rapidity. 
Houses  which  might  serve  as  protection  to  the 
approaching  enemy  were  torn  down  and  the  region 
around  the  city  became  a  desert.  Crowds  of 
country  people  filled  up  the  already  crowded  city, 
and  the  streets  were  jammed  with  the  wagons  and 
pack  horses  of  these  people,  laden  with  the  remains 
of  their  household  goods.  I  had  seen  the  same 
sight  in  Bohemia,  and  now  was  fated  to  see  the 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  267 

like  misery  and  a  similar  terror  in  the  beautiful 
streets  of  the  most  wonderful,  most  brilliant  city 
of  the  world. 

There  came  at  last  the  news  of  the  prospect  of 
better  things.  Through  the  mediation  of  England 
an  interview  was  arranged  between  Bismarck  and 
Jules  Favre.  There  was  the  chance  that  peace 
might  be  arranged. 

On  the  contrary,  the  breach  became  much  wider. 
For  some  time  past  German  papers  had  suggested 
the  retention  of  Alsace-Lorraine.  The  former  Ger- 
man provinces  were  to  be  annexed.  The  histori- 
cal argument  was  not  quite  tenable,  therefore  the 
strategical  reason  was  made  more  prominent:  as  a 
rampart  they  were  absolutely  necessary  in  case  of 
future  wars.  It  is  well  known  that  the  strategic 
grounds  are  the  most  important,  the  most  incon- 
testible — the  ethical  reasons  must  take  second 
rank.  On  the  other  hand,  as  France  had  lost 
in  the  struggle,  was  it  not  fair  that  the  winner 
should  hold  the  prize?  In  case  of  the  success  of 
the  French,  they  of  course  would  have  claimed  the 
provinces  of  the  Rhine.  What  is  war  for  except 
for  the  extension  of  the  territory  of  the  one  or  the 
other  antagonist? 

In  the  meantime  the  victorious  army  did  not  halt 
in  its  march  on  Paris, — the  Germans  were  already 
at  her  door.  The  consent  to  the  cession  of  Alsace- 
Lorraine  was  officially  demanded.  In  response  the 
well  known  reply  was  given:  "  Not  an  inch  of  our 
territory — not  a  stone  of  our  fortresses." 

Yes,  yes — a  thousand  lives — not  an  inch  of  earth. 
That  is  the  foundation  principle  of  the  patriotic 
spirit.  "They  seek  to  humiliate  us!"  cried  the 
French  patriots.  "We  would  rather  be  buried 
under  the  ruins  of  Paris." 

We  attempted  to  leave  the  city.  Why  should 
we  stay  among  a  people  so  embittered  by  hate 
that  they  clenched  their  fists  if  they  heard  us  speak 
German.  We  had  succeeded  in  making  arrange- 
ments for  departure,  when  I  was  seized  by  a  nerv- 


268  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

ous  fever  of  so  dangerous  a  character  that  the 
family  physician  forbade  any  attempt  at  removal. 

I  lay  upon  my  bed  for  many  weeks,  and  only  a 
dreamy  recollection  of  that  time  remains.  In  the 
careful  hands  of  my  husband  and  the  tender  care 
of  my  children,  my  Rudolph  and  my  little  Sylvia, 
all  knowledge  of  the  fearful  events  then  occurring 
was  shut  out,  and  when  I  recovered  winter  had 
set  in. 

Strassburg  had  been  bombarded,  the  library 
destroyed;  four  or  five  shots  a  minute  were  said  to 
have  been  fired — in  all,  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
three  thousand,  seven  hundred  and  twenty-two. 

Should  Paris  be  starved  into  submission  or  bom- 
barded? 

Against  the  last  the  conscience  of  civilization 
protested.  Should  this  "villc-lumilre"  this  ren- 
dezvous of  all  nations,  this  brilliant  seat  of  art, 
with  its  irrecoverable  riches  and  treasures  be  bom- 
barded as  any  common  citadel?  It  was  not  to  be 
thought  of;  the  whole  neutral  press,  I  learned  after- 
wards, protested.  The  press  of  Berlin  approved 
the  idea;  considered  it  the  only  way  to  end  the 
war  and  conquer  the  city.  No  protest  availed,  and 
on  the  twenty-eighth  of  December  the  bombard- 
ment began. 

At  first  greeting  it  with  terror,  it  was  not  long 
before  the  Parisians  chose  for  a  promenade  the 
localities  from  which  one  could  best  hear  the 
music  of  cannon.  Here  and  there  a  shell  fell  in 
the  street,  but  there  was  seldom  a  consequent 
catastrophe.  Rarely  could  any  news  from  the  out- 
side world  be  obtained,  and  that  only  through  car- 
rier pigeons  and  balloons.  The  reports  were  most 
contradictory;  one  day  we  were  informed  of  suc- 
cessful sallies,  the  next,  that  the  enemy  was  about 
to  storm  the  city,  set  fire  to  it,  and  lay  it  in  ashes; 
or  we  were  assured  that  rather  than  see  one  Ger- 
man enter  within  the  walls  the  commandant  would 
blow  all  Paris  into  atoms. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  269 

It  became  daily  more  and  more  difficult  to  ob- 
tain food.  Meat  was  not  to  be  had;  cattle  and 
sheep  and  horses  were  exhausted,  and  the  period 
began  when  dogs,  cats,  rats,  and  mice  were  a  rarity, 
and  finally  the  beloved  elephant  at  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes  must  be  served  up.  Bread  was  scarce. 
People  stood  in  rows,  hours  at  a  time,  in  front  of 
the  bakers  in  order  to  receive  their  tiny  portion. 
Disease  broke  out,  induced  by  famine.  The  mor- 
tality increased  from  the  ordinary  eleven  hundred 
a  week  to  between  four  and  five  thousand. 

One  day  Frederick  came  into  the  house  from  his 
daily  walk  in  an  unusual  state  of  excitement. 

"Take  up  your  note-book,  my  zealous  historian," 
he  cried.  "  To-day  there  is  wonderful  news." 

"Which  of  my  books?"  I  asked.  "My  Peace 
Protocol?" 

Frederick  shook  his  head. 

"Oh,  for  that  the  time  is  past.  The  war  now 
being  carried  on  is  of  so  mighty  a  character  that 
it  will  drag  its  martial  spirit  long  after  it.  It  has 
sown  broadcast  such  a  store  of  hatred  and  revenge 
that  future  battle  harvests  must  grow  therefrom; 
and  upon  the  other  side  it  has  produced  for  the  vic- 
tors such  magnificent  revolutionary  results  that  a 
like  harvest  may  be  brought  about  by  their  haughty 
martial  spirits." 

"What  is  it  that  is  so  important?" 

"  King  William  has  been  proclaimed  Emperor  at 
Versailles.  There  is  now  really  a  Germany,  one 
single  empire — and  a  mighty  one.  That  is  a  new 
event  in  the  world's  history.  And  you  can  easily 
perceive  how  this  great  result  will  redound  to  the 
honor  of  the  work  of  war.  The  two  most  ad- 
vanced representatives  of  civilization  on  the  conti- 
nent are  the  ones  who  from  now  on  for  some  time 
to  come  will  cultivate  the  war  spirit — the  one  in 
order  to  return  the  blow,  the  other  in  order  to 
maintain  the  position  won;  here  out  of  hate,  there 
out  of  love;  here  from  a  spirit  of  retaliation,  on 
the  other  side  out  of  gratitude.  Shut  up  your 


270  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

peace  protocols — for  a  long  time  to  come  we  shall 
stand  under  the  bloody  and  iron  sign  of  Mars." 

"Emperor  of  Germany!"  I  cried,  "that  is  in- 
deed glorious.  I  cannot  help  rejoicing  over  this 
news.  The  whole  barbarous  slaughter  has  not 
been  in  vain  if  a  great,  new  empire  has  been  born." 

"From  the  French  point  of  view  the  war  is 
doubly  lost.  And  it  is  to  be  expected  of  us  that 
we  should  not  regard  this  contest  from  the  one- 
sided German  standpoint  alone.  Not  only  as  hu- 
man beings  but  from  a  narrower  national  feeling 
we  should  be  excused  if  we  regretted  the  success 
of  our  enemies  of  1866.  And  yet  I  will  acknowl- 
edge that  the  union  of  divided  Germany  is  a 
desirable  thing,  and  that  the  readiness  with  which 
all  these  German  princes  joined  in  offering  the 
imperial  crown  to  the  gray-haired  victor  is  inspir- 
ing and  admirable.  Only  it  is  a  pity  that  this  union 
was  not  brought  about  through  peaceful  rather 
than  warlike  measures.  It  may  be  that  if  Napo- 
leon III.  had  not  made  his  demand  of  the  nine- 
teenth of  July  there  would  not  have  been  enough 
patriotism  among  the  Germans  to  bring  about  this 
result.  They  may  well  rejoice;  the  poet's  wish  is 
fulfilled — they  are  a  band  of  brothers.  Four  years 
ago  they  had  each  other  by  the  throat  and  knew 
but  one  common  cause — hatred  of  Prussia." 

"  That  word  hate  makes  me  shudder." 

"Well  it  may.  So  long  as  this  feeling  is  not 
regarded  as  unjust  and  dishonorable,  we  shall  have 
no  humane  humanity.  Religious  hatred  has  about 
disappeared,  but  national  hatreds  form  a  part  of 
the  education  of  the  citizen." 

In  the  quiet  of  the  next  few  days  we  had  many 
discussions  as  to  our  future.  With  the  establish- 
ment of  peace,  which  we  could  now  hope  for,  we 
might  again  dare  to  think  of  our  personal  happi- 
ness. During  the  eight  years  of  our  married  life 
there  had  been  no  discord,  not  a  discourteous  or 
unkindly  word  or  thought  had  passed  between  us; 
as  the  years  drew  on  we  knew  we  should  grow 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  271 

nearer  to  each  other,  and  we  could  look  forward  to 
an  old  age  together — the  golden  evening  of  our 
lives — with  sure  content. 

Many  of  the  preceding  pages  I  have  turned  over 
with  a  shudder.  It  is  not  without  repulsion  that  I 
have  recorded  my  visit  to  the  battlefields  of  Bohe- 
mia and  the  scenes  of  the  cholera  week  in  Grumitz. 
I  have  done  it  as  a  duty.  I  had  been  told:  "In 
case  I  die  first  take  up  my  work  and  do  what  you 
can  to  further  the  cause  of  peace  among  men." 

But  I  have  now  reached  a  point  when  I  cannot 
go  on. 

I  have  tried;  many  half-written  sheets  lie  on  the 
floor  beside  me;  but  my  heart  fails  and  I  can  only 
fall  to  weeping — weeping  bitterly  like  a  child. 

Some  hours  later  I  again  made  the  attempt.  But 
the  particulars  of  the  circumstances  it  is  not  possi- 
ble for  me  to  relate. 

The  fact  is  enough. 

Frederick — myall!  was  seized  by  a  fanatical  mob 
who,  finding  a  letter  from  Berlin  upon  his  person, 
accused  him  of  being  a  spy.  He  was  dragged 
before  a  so-called  patriotic  tribunal,  and  on  the 
first  of  February,  1871,  was  sentenced  to  be  shot. 


272  ' '  GRO  UND  ARMS !  " 


EPILOGUE. 


WHEN  I  again  awoke  to  consciousness  peace 
had  been  declared,  the  Commune  had  been  de- 
feated. For  months,  attended  by  my  faithful  Frau 
Anna,  I  lived  through  an  illness  without  knowing; 
that  I  was  alive.  The  character  of  my  illness  I 
have  never  known.  Those  about  me  tenderly  called 
it  typhus,  but  I  believe  it  was  simply  insanity. 

Dimly  I  remember  that  the  latter  part  of  the 
time  seemed  filled  with  the  rattling  of  shot  and  the 
falling  of  burning  walls;  probably  my  fancies  were 
influenced  by  the  actual  events,  the  skirmishes 
between  the  communists  and  the  party  of  Ver- 
sailles. 

That  when  I  recovered  my  reason  and  realized 
the  circumstances  of  my  profound  unhappiness  I 
did  not  kill  myself,  or  that  the  anguish  had  not 
killed  me,  was  owing  to  the  existence  of  my  chil- 
dren. For  these  I  could,  I  must  live.  Even  before 
my  illness,  on  the  day  when  the  terrible  event 
occurred,  Rudolph  had  held  me  to  life.  I  had  sunk 
on  my  knees,  weeping  aloud  while  I  repeated:  "Die 
— die!  I  will  die!"  Two  little  arms  were  thrown 
around  me  and  a  sweet,  piteous,  pleading,  childish 
face  looked  into  mine: 

"  Mother!" 

My  little  one  had  never  called  me  anything  but 
Mamma.  That  he  at  that  moment,  for  the  first 
time,  used  the  word  "Mother,"  said  to  me  in  two 
syllables:  "You  are  not  alone,  you  have  a  son  who 
shares  your  pain,  who  loves  you  above  all  things, 
who  has  no  one  in  the  world  but  you.  Do  not 
leave  your  child,  Mother!  " 

I  pressed  the  precious  being  to  my  heart,  and  to 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  273 

show  him  that  I  had  understood  him  I  murmured: 
"  My  son,  my  son!  " 

I  then  remembered  my  little  girl — his  child — and 
resolved  to  live. 

But  the  anguish  was  unendurable,  and  I  fell  into 
mental  darkness.  For  years — at  longer  and  longer 
intervals — I  was  subject  to  these  attacks  of  melan- 
choly, of  which  upon  my  restoration  to  health  I 
knew  nothing.  Now,  at  length,  I  have  outlived 
them,  and  for  several  years  have  been  free  from 
the  unconscious  misery,  though  not  from  the  bitter- 
est, conscious  sorrow.  Eighteen  years  have  passed 
since  the  first  of  February,  1871;  but  the  deep  an- 
guish and  the  deepest  mourning,  which  the  trag- 
edy of  that  day  brought  to  me,  I  can  never  outlive 
though  I  should  live  a  hundred  years.  If,  in  later 
times,  the  days  are  more  frequent  when  I  can  take 
part  in  the  events  of  the  present,  can  forget  the 
past  unhappiness,  can  sympathize  in  the  joys  of 
my  children,  not  a  night  passes  when  I  escape  my 
misery.  It  is  a  peculiar  experience,  hard  for  me 
to  describe,  and  which  can  only  be  understood  by 
those  who  have  similarly  suffered.  It  would  seem 
to  indicate  a  dual  life  of  the  soul.  If  the  one  is  so 
occupied,  when  awake,  with  the  things  of  the  outer 
world  as  to  forget,  there  yet  remains  that  second 
nature  which  ever  keeps  faithfully  in  mind  that 
dreadful  memory;  and  this  / — when  the  other  is 
asleep — makes  itself  felt.  Every  night  at  the  same 
hour  I  awake  with  this  deep  depression.  My  heart 
seems  torn  asunder  and  I  feel  as  if  I  must  relieve 
my  agony  in  sighs  and  bitter  weeping;  this  lasts 
for  several  seconds,  without  the  awakened  /  know- 
ing why  the  other  is  happy  or  unhappy.  The  next 
stage  is  a  sentiment  of  universal  sympathy,  full  of 
the  tenderest  compassion :  "  Oh,  poor,  poor  human- 
ity! "  Then  amidst  a  shower  of  bullets  I  see  shriek- 
ing figures  fall — and  then  I  remember  for  the  first 
time  that  my  best-beloved  met  such  a  death. 

But  in  dreams,  singular  to  say,  I  never  realize  my 
loss.  It  often  occurs  that  I  seem  to  talk  with  Fred- 


274  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

erick  as  if  he  were  alive.  Many  circumstances  of 
the  past — but  no  sad  ones — are  frequently  alluded 
to  by  us:  our  meeting  after  Schleswig-Holstein,  our 
joking  over  Sylvia's  cradle,  our  walk  through  Switz- 
erland, our  studies  of  favorite  books,  and  now  and 
then  a  certain  picture  of  my  white-haired  husband 
in  the  evening  sunset-light,  with  his  garden  shears, 
clipping  his  roses.  "  Is  it  not  true,"  he  says  to  me, 
smiling,  "  that  we  are  a  happy  old  couple?" 

My  mourning  I  have  never  laid  aside — not  even 
on  my  son's  wedding  day.  The  woman  who  has 
loved,  possessed,  and  lost — so  lost — such  a  man, 
must  feel  that  love  is  indeed  stronger  than  death. 
With  this  may  exist  a  longing  for  revenge  which 
can  never  grow  cold. 

But  how  should  I  seek  revenge?  The  men  who 
were  guilty  of  the  act  could  not  be  personally 
blamed.  The  sole  responsibility  rested  upon  the 
spirit  of  war,  and  this  was  the  only  force  with 
which  I  could  attempt — though  in  a  feeble  way — 
to  settle  my  account. 

My  son  Rudolph  shared  my  views  in  regard  to 
war — which  did  not,  however,  prevent  his  going 
into  camp  for  the  annual  military  drill,  nor  would 
it  hinder  his  marching  over  the  border,  should  that 
gigantic  European  contest  break  out  which  we  are 
all  anticipating.  I  might  yet  live  to  see  the  dearest 
one  left  to  me  sacrificed  to  this  relentless  Moloch, 
and  the  hearth  of  my  old  age  fall  in  ruins. 

Should  I  live  to  experience  that  and  again  be 
driven  to  madness,  or  should  I  see  the  triumph  of 
justice  and  humanity,  for  which  all  nations  and 
alliances  of  peoples  are  now  striving? 

My  red  journals  are  closed,  and  under  date  of 
1871  I  marked  with  a  great  cross  the  record  of  my 
life.  My  so-called  protocol — my  peace  record — I 
have  again  opened,  and  of  late  have  added  much 
to  the  history  of  the  growth  of  the  international 
idea  of  the  settlement  of  the  strifes  of  humanity  by 
peaceful  methods. 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  275 

For  some  years  the  two  most  influential  nations 
of  the  continent  have  been  watching  each  other, 
both  absorbed  in  thoughts  of  war — the  one  in  arro- 
gant review  of  past  successes,  the  other  in  burn- 
ing hopes  of  revenge.  Gradually  these  sentiments 
have  somewhat  cooled,  and  notwithstanding,  or  by 
reason  of,  the  great  increase  of  our  standing  armies, 
after  ten  years  the  voices  petitioning  for  peace  are 
once  more  heard.  Bruntschli,  the  great  advocate 
of  civil  rights,  presented  the  just  claims  of  peace 
to  many  influential  persons  and  governments.  It 
was  at  this  time  that  the  silent  "Battle-thinker" 
uttered  his  well-known  dictum,  "  Eternal  peace  is 
a  dream,  and  not  even  a  beautiful  dream." 

"  Certainly,  if  Luther  had  asked  the  Pope  what 
he  thought  of  his  defection  from  Rome,  the  answer 
would  not  have  been  particularly  reassuring  to 
the  reformer,"  I  wrote  at  the  time  under  Moltke's 
words. 

To-day  there  are  few  to  whom  this  dream  of 
peace  seems  an  impossibility.  There  are  sentinels 
on  every  hill,  to  wake  humanity  out  of  its  long 
sleep  of  barbarism  and  to  plant  the  white  flag. 
Their  battle-cry  is  "War  against  war";  their  watch- 
word, "Ground  Arms!"  The  only  thing  which 
can  now  prevent  the  most  appalling  disaster  to 
Europe  is  the  universal  cry,  "Ground  Arms!" 
Everywhere,  in  England  and  France,  in  Italy,  in 
the  northern  countries,  in  Germany,  in  Switzer- 
land, in  America,  societies  have  been  formed  with 
the  common  object  to  educate  public  opinion,  and 
by  the  united  expression  of  popular  will  to  demand 
of  governments  that  future  dissensions  shall  be 
submitted  to  international  arbitration,  and  by  so 
doing  to  set  justice  forever  in  the  place  of  rude 
force.  That  this  is  not  the  impossible  fancy  of  a 
dreamer  has  been  proved  by  facts:  by  the  settle- 
ment of  the  Alabama  claims,  the  affair  of  the  Caro- 
line Islands,  and  several  other  threatening  ques- 
tions, which  in  an  earlier  period  would  have  been 
decided  only  by  an  appeal  to  arms.  It  is  not  only 


276  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

people  of  no  influence  and  position,  but  members 
of  Parliament,  bishops,  scholars,  senators,  embassa- 
dors,  who  stand  on  the  list.  To  these  is  added 
that  ever-growing  party  which  will  shortly  number 
millions,  the  party  of  "  Labor  "  and  of  the  people, 
upon  whose  programme  the  demand  for  peace  is 
a  first  condition. 

I  lately  received  the  following  letter,  in  reply  to 
a  request  for  information,  from  the  President  of 
the  London  Peace  Society: 

INTERNATIONAL  ARBITRATION  AND 

PEACE  ASSOCIATION, 
LONDON,  41  OUTER  TEMPLE,  July,  1889. 
MADAME: 

You  have  honored  me  by  inquiring  as  to  the  actual 
position  of  the  great  question  to  which  you  have  devoted 
your  life.  Here  is  my  answer:  At  no  time,  perhaps,  in 
the  history  of  the  world,  has  the  cause  of  peace  and  good- 
will been  more  hopeful.  It  seems,  at  last,  that  the  long 
night  of  death  and  destruction  will  pass  away,  and  we 
who  are  on  the  mountain  top  of  humanity  think  we  see 
the  first  streaks  of  the  dawn  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
upon  earth.  It  may  seem  strange  that  we  should  say 
this  at  a  moment  when  the  world  has  never  seen  so  many 
armed  men  and  such  frightful  engines  of  destruction 
ready  for  their  accursed  work;  but  when  things  are  at 
their  worst,  they  begin  to  mend.  Indeed,  the  very  ruin 
which  these  armies  are  bringing  in  their  train,  produces 
universal  consternation,  and  soon  the  oppressed  people 
must  rise  and  with  one  voice  say  to  their  rulers:  "  Save 
us,  and  save  our  children  from  the  famine  which  awaits 
us,  if  these  things  continue;  save  civilization  and  all  the 
triumphs  which  the  efforts  of  wise  and  great  men  have 
accomplished  in  its  name;  save  the  world  from  a  return 
to  barbarism,  rapine,  and  terror! "  "  What  indications/' 
do  you  ask,  "are  there  of  such  a  dawn  of  a  better 
day?  "  Well,  let  me  ask  in  reply,  is  not  the  recent  meet- 
ing in  Paris  of  the  representatives  of  one  hundred  socie- 
ties for  the  declaration  of  international  concord,  for  the 
substitution  of  a  state  of  law  and  justice  for  that  of  force 
and  wrong,  an  event  unparalleled  in  history?  Have  we 
not  seen  men  of  many  nations  assembled  on  this  occa- 
sion and  elaborating  with  enthusiasm  and  unanimity 
practical  schemes  for  this  great  end?  Have  we  not  seen 
for  the  first  time  in  history  a  congress  of  representatives 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  277 

of  the  parliaments  of  free  nations,  declaring  in  favor  of 
treaties  being  signed  by  all  civilized  states,  whereby  they 
shall  bind  themselves  to  defer  their  differences  to  the 
arbitrament  of  equity,  pronounced  by  an  authorized  tri- 
bunal instead  of  a  resort  to  wholesale  murder? 

Moreover,  these  representatives  have  pledged  them- 
selves to  meet  every  year  in  some  city  of  Europe,  in 
order  to  consider  every  case  of  misunderstanding  or  con- 
flict, and  to  exercise  their  influence  upon  governments 
in  the  cause  of  just  and  pacific  settlements.  Surely,  the 
most  hopeless  pessimist  must  admit  that  these  are  signs 
of  a  future  when  war  shall  be  regarded  as  the  most  foolish 
and  most  criminal  blot  upon  man's  record. 

Accept,  dear  Madame,  the  expression  of  my  profound 
respect.  Yours  truly, 

HODGSON  PRATT. 

The  international  conference  to  which  Mr.  Pratt 
refers  met  in  Paris.  Jules  Simon  presided.  In  his 
opening  address  he  said: 

"  I  am  happy  to  welcome  in  this  hall  the  authorized 
representatives  of  the  friends  of  peace  of  different  na- 
tionalities. I  wish  the  number  were  greater,  or,  more  to 
the  purpose,  I  wish  it  were  much  less  and  not  a  voluntary 
but  an  official,  diplomatic  congress.  But  what  we  cannot 
now  carry  out  by  legislative  powers  we  may  still  make 
effective  by  popular  education.  As  members  of  different 
states  we  can  make  the  best  use  of  the  greatest  power 
which  exists — that  power  which  we  were  elected  to  repre- 
sent. 

"  For  you  must  be  aware,  gentlemen,  that  the  public 
sentiment  of  the  majority  of  every  nation  is  on  the  side 
of  peace." 

There  were  present  at  this  conference  members 
of  the  legislative  bodies  of  Denmark,  Spain  and 
Italy,  who  pledged  themselves  to  present  to  their 
governments  during  the  next  session  the  proposal 
for  the  establishment  of  an  international  court  of 
arbitration. 

The  next  international  conference  will  meet  in 
London  in  July,  1890. 

I  find  a  royal  manifesto  in  the  blue  note-book, 
dated  March,  1888 — a  manifesto  which,  so  widely 
different  from  ancient  precedent,  breathes  a  peace- 


278  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

ful  instead  of  a  martial  spirit.  But  the  noble  man, 
upon  whose  word  his  people  could  rely,  the  dying 
monarch  who  with  his  failing  powers  grasped  his 
scepter  which  he  would  use  as  a  palm  branch, 
remained  chained  to  his  bed  of  pain,  and  in  a  few 
short  days  all  was  over. 

Will  his  successor,  who  pants  for  great  deeds,  be 
inspired  by  the  ideals  of  peace?  Nothing  is  impos- 
sible. 

"  Mother,  will  you  lay  aside  your  mourning  day 
after  to-morrow? " 

With  these  words  Rudolph  came  into  my  room 
this  morning.  For  the  day  after  to-morrow — the 
thirtieth  of  July,  1889 — the  baptism  of  his  first- 
born son  is  to  be  celebrated. 

"  No,  my  child,"  I  answered. 

"  But  think,  surely  at  such  a  festival  you  will 
not  be  sad;  why  wear  the  outward  sign  of  sor- 
row?" 

"  And  you  surely  are  not  superstitious  enough 
to  think  that  the  black  dress  of  the  grandmother 
will  bring  ill-luck  to  the  grandchild?" 

"  Certainly  not.  But  it  is  not  suitable  to  the 
occasion.  Have  you  taken  a  vow? " 

"  No,  it  is  only  a  quiet  determination.  But  a 
determination  connected  with  such  a  memory  has 
all  the  force  of  a  vow." 

My  son  bowed  his  head  and  urged  me  no  longer. 

"  I  have  disturbed  you  in  your  occupation.  Were 
you  writing?" 

"Yes — the  story  of  my  life.  I  am,  thank  God! 
at  the  end.  That  was  the  last  chapter." 

"  How  can  you  write  the  close  of  your  life?  You 
may  live  many  years,  many  happy  years,  Mother. 
With  the  birth  of  my  little  Frederick,  whom  I  will 
train  to  adore  his  grandmother,  a  new  chapter  is 
begun  for  you." 

"  You  are  a  good  son,  my  Rudolph,  I  should  be 
ungrateful  if  I  had  not  pride  and  happiness  in 
you;  and  I  am  also  proud  of  my — his  sweet  Sylvia; 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  279 

yes,  I  am  entering  on  a  happy  old  age — a  quiet 
evening;  but  the  story  of  the  day  is  closed  at  sun- 
set, is  it  not?" 

He  answered  me  with  a  quiet  and  sympathetic 
glance. 

"  Yes,  the  word  '  end '  under  my  biography  is 
justified.  When  I  conceived  the  idea  of  writing  it, 
I  determined  to  stop  with  the  first  of  February, 
1871.  If  you  had  been  torn  from  me  for  service  in 
the  field — luckily  during  the  Bosnian  campaign 
you  were  not  old  enough — I  might  have  been 
obliged  to  lengthen  my  book.  As  it  is,  it  was 
painful  enough  to  write." 

"And  also  to  read,"  answered  Rudolph,  turning 
over  the  leaves. 

"  I  hope  so.  If  the  book  shall  cause  such  pain 
in  the  reading  as  to  awaken  a  detestation  of  the 
source  of  all  the  unhappiness  here  described,  I 
shall  not  have  tormented  myself  in  vain." 

"Have  you  examined  all  sides  of  the  question, 
Mother? "  said  my  son.  "  Have  you  exhausted  all 
the  arguments,  analyzed  to  the  roots  the  spirit  of 
war,  and  sufficiently  brought  out  the  scientific  ob- 
jections to  it?" 

"My  dear,  what  are  you  thinking  about?  I  have 
only  written  of  my  life.  All  sides  of  the  question? 
Certainly  not.  What  do  I,  the  rich  woman  of  high 
rank,  know  of  the  sorrows  which  war  brings  to  the 
mass  of  the  poor?  What  do  I  know  of  the  plagues 
and  evil  tendencies  of  barrack  life?  And  with  the 
economic-social  question  involved  I  am  not  familiar 
— and  yet  these  are  all  the  very  matters  which 
finally  determine  all  reformation.  I  do  not  offer  a 
history  of  the  past  and  future  rights  of  nations — 
only  the  story  of  the  individual." 

"  But  do  you  not  fear  that  the  object  will  be  rec- 
ognized?" 

"One  is  offended  only  by  the  veiled  intention, 
which  the  author  commonly  seeks  to  hide.  My 
aim  is  open  as  the  day  and  is  found  in  the  words  on 
the  title  page." 


280  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

The  baptism  took  place  yesterday.  The  occasion 
was  made  doubly  important  by  the  betrothal  of  my 
daughter  Sylvia  and  the  old  friend  of  her  baby- 
hood— Count  Anton  Delnitzky. 

I  am  surrounded  by  the  happiness  of  my  chil- 
dren. Rudolph  inherited  the  Dotzky  estates  six 
years  ago  and  has  been  married  four  years  to  Bea- 
trice Griesbach,  promised  to  him  in  their  childhood. 
She  is  a  charming  creature,  and  the  birth  of  their 
son  adds  to  their  enviable,  brilliant  lot. 

In  the  room  looking  out  upon  the  garden  the 
dinner  was  served.  The  glass  doors  were  open  and 
the  air  of  the  superb  summer  afternoon  streamed 
in  loaded  with  the  perfume  of  roses. 

Near  me  sat  the  Countess  Lori  Griesbach,  Bea- 
trice's mother.  She  is  now  a  widow.  Her  husband 
fell  in  the  Bosnian  campaign.  She  has  not  taken 
his  loss  much  to  heart.  On  the  contrary — for  she  is 
dressed  in  a  ruby  brocade  and  brilliant  diamonds — 
she  is  exactly  as  superficial  as  in  her  youth.  Mat- 
ters of  the  toilet,  a  few  French  and  English  novels, 
the  usual  society  gossip — these  suffice  to  fill  her 
horizon.  She  is  as  great  a  coquette  as  ever.  For 
young  men  she  has  now  no  fancy,  but  personages 
of  rank  and  position  are  the  objects  of  her  con- 
quests. At  present,  it  seems  to  me,  she  has  our 
Minister  "  Upon  the  Whole"  in  hand.  This  gentle- 
man has  now  changed  his  name;  we  now  call  him 
Minister  "  On  the  Other  Hand,"  to  conform  to  the 
latest  expression  adopted  by  him. 

"  I  must  make  a  confession  to  you,"  said  Lori  to 
me  when  we  had  congratulated  each  other  upon  our 
grandchild.  "  On  this  solemn  occasion  I  must  re- 
lieve my  conscience.  I  was  seriously  in  love  with 
your  husband." 

"You  have  often  told  me  that,  dear  Lori." 

"  But  he  was  always  absolutely  indifferent  to  me." 

"That  is  well  known  to  me." 

"You  had  a  husband  true  as  gold,  Martha!  I 
cannot  say  the  same  of  mine.  But  nevertheless  I 
was  sorry  to  lose  him.  Well,  he  died  a  glorious 


"GROUND  ARMS!"  281 

death,  that  is  one  comfort.  Really  it  is  a  weari- 
some existence  to  be  a  widow,  more  especially  as 
one  grows  older — so  long  as  one  can  flirt  widow- 
hood is  not  without  its  compensations.  But  now 
I  acknowledge  I  become  quite  melancholy.  With 
you  it  is  different;  you  live  with  your  son,  but  I 
would  not  like  to  live  with  my  Beatrice.  She 
would  not  wish  it  either.  A  mother-in-law  in  the 
house — that  does  not  go  well;  for  one  wants  to  be 
mistress.  One  gets  so  provoked  with  the  servants. 
You  may  believe  me,  I  am  much  inclined  to  marry 
again.  Of  course  a  marriage  with  some  one  of 
position " 

"  A  Minister  of  Finance,  for  instance,"  I  inter- 
rupted laughing. 

"O  you  sly  one!  You  see  through  me  at  once. 
Look  there:  do  you  see  how  Toni  Delnitzky  is 
whispering  to  your  Sylvia.  That  is  compromising." 

"  Let  them  alone.  The  two  have  come  to  an  un- 
derstanding on  the  way  from  church.  Sylvia  has 
confided  to  me  that  the  young  man  will  ask  my 
permission  to-morrow." 

"  What  do  you  say?  Well,  I  congratulate  you. 
It  is  said  the  handsome  Toni  has  been  a  little  gay 
— but  all  of  them  are  that — it  cannot  be  helped 
and  he  is  a  splendid  match." 

"Of  that  my  Sylvia  has  not  thought." 

"  Well,  so  much  the  better;  it  is  a  charming 
addition  to  marriage." 

"  Addition?     Love  is  the  sum  of  all." 

One  of  the  guests,  an  imperial  colonel,  had 
knocked  on  his  glass  and:  "Oh,  dear — a  toast!" 
thought  all,  and  discontentedly  dropped  their 
special  conversation  to  listen  to  the  speaker.  We 
had  good  reason  to  sigh;  three  times  the  unlucky 
man  stuck  fast  and  the  choice  of  his  good  wishes 
was  unfortunate.  The  health  of  the  young  heir 
was  offered,  who  was  born  at  a  time  when  his  coun- 
try needed  all  her  sons. 

"  May  he  wear  the  sword  as  his  great-grandfather 


282  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

and  his  grandfather  did;  may  he  bring  many  sons 
into  the  world,  who  on  their  part  may  be  an  honor 
to  their  ancestry,  and  as  they  have  done  who  have 
fallen,  win  fame  on  the  field  of  honor.  May  they 
for  the  honor  of  the  land  of  their  fathers  conquer 
— as  their  fathers'  and  fathers'  fathers — in  short: 
Long  life  to  Frederick  Dotzky!" 

The  glasses  rattled  but  the  speech  fell  flat. 
That  this  little  creature  just  on  the  threshold  of 
life  should  be  sentenced  to  the  death-list  on  a  bat- 
tlefield did  not  make  a  pleasant  impression. 

To  banish  this  dark  picture,  several  guests  made 
the  comforting  remark  that  present  circumstances 
promised  a  long  peace,  that  the  Triple  Alliance — 
and  with  that  general  interest  was  carried  into  the 
political  arena,  and  our  Minister  "  On  the  Other 
Hand  "  led  the  conversation. 

"  In  truth  (Lori  Griesbach  listened  with  intense 
interest),  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  perfection 
which  our  weapons  have  attained  is  marvelous  and 
enough  to  terrify  all  breakers  of  the  peace.  The 
law  for  general  service  allows  us  to  put  into  the 
field,  on  the  first  call,  four  million  eight  hundred 
thousand  men  between  the  ages  of  nineteen  and 
forty,  with  officers  up  to  sixty.  On  the  other  hand, 
one  must  acknowledge,  that  the  extraordinary  at- 
tendant expenses  will  be  a  strain  upon  the  finan- 
ces. It  will  be  an  intolerable  burden  to  the  popu- 
lation; but  it  is  encouraging  to  see  with  what 
patriotic  self-sacrifice  the  people  respond  to  the 
demands  of  the  war  ministry;  they  recognize  what 
all  far-sighted  politicians  realize,  that  the  general 
armament  of  neighboring  states  and  the  difficulties 
of  the  political  situation  demand  that  all  other 
considerations  should  be  subordinated  to  the  iron 
pressure  of  military  necessity." 

"Sounds  like  the  leading  editorial,"  murmured 
some  one. 

Minister  "  On  the  Other  Hand  "  went  on  calmly: 

"But  such  a  system  is  surety  for  the  preservation 
of  peace.  For  if  to  secure  our  border,  as  tradi- 


"  GRO  UND  A  RMS  /  "  283 

tional  patriotism  demands  of  us,  we  do  as  our 
neighbors  are  doing,  we  are  but  fulfilling  a  sacred 
duty  and  hope  to  keep  danger  far  from  us.  So  I 
raise  my  glass  to  the  toast  in  honor  of  the  princi- 
ple which  lies  so  close  to  the  heart  of  Frau  Martha 
—a  principle  dear  to  the  Peace  League  of  Middle 
Europe — and  I  call  upon  all  of  you  to  drink  to 
the  maintenance  of  peace!  May  we  long  enjoy  its 
blessings!" 

"To  such  a  toast  I  will  not  drink,"  I  replied. 
"Armed  peace  is  no  benefaction;  we  do  not  want 
peace  for  a  long  time,  but  forever.  If  we  set  out 
upon  a  sea  voyage,  do  we  like  the  assurance  that 
the  ship  will  escape  wreck  for  a  long  time?  That 
the  whole  trip  will  be  a  fortunate  one  is  what  the 
honest  captain  vouches  for." 

Doctor  Bresser,  our  intimate  old  friend,  came  to 
my  help. 

"  Can  you  in  truth,  your  Excellency,  honestly 
believe  in  a  desire  for  peace  on  the  part  of  those 
who  with  enthusiasm  and  passion  are  soldiers? 
How  could  they  find  such  delight  in  arsenals,  for- 
tresses, and  maneuvers  if  these  things  were  really 
regarded  merely  as  scarecrows?  Must  the  people 
give  all  their  earnings  in  order  to  kiss  hands  across 
the  border?  Do  you  think  the  military  class  will 
willingly  accept  the  position  of  mere  custodians 
of  the  peace?  Behind  this  mask — the  si  vis  pacem 
mask — glitters  the  eye  of  understanding,  and  every 
member  who  votes  for  the  war  budget  knows  it." 

"The  representatives?"  interrupted  the  minister. 
"  We  cannot  enough  praise  the  self-sacrifice  which 
they  have  never  failed  to  exhibit  in  serious  times, 
and  which  finds  expression  in  their  willingness  to 
vote  the  appropriations." 

"  Forgive  me,  your  Excellency,  I  would  call  out 
to  these  willing  representatives:  'Your  "yes"  will 
rob  that  mother  of  her  only  child;  yours  over  there 
puts  out  the  eyes  of  some  poor  wretch;  yours  sets 
in  a  blaze  a  fearful  conflagration;  yours  stamps 
out  the  brain  of  a  poet,  who  would  have  been  an 


284  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

honor  to  his  country.  But  you  have  all  voted 
"yes"  in  order  to  prove  that  you  are  not  cowards 
— as  if  one  had  only  oneself  to  consider.  Are  you 
not  there  to  represent  the  wishes  of  the  people? 
And  the  people  wish  profitable  labor,  wish  relief, 
wish  peace.' 

"  I  hope,  dear  Doctor,"  remarked  the  Colonel 
bitterly,  "that  you  may  never  be  a  member;  the 
whole  house  would  spit  upon  you." 

"  I  would  soon  prove  that  I  am  no  coward.  To 
swim  against  the  stream  requires  nerves  of  steel." 

"  But  how  would  it  be  if  a  serious  attack  were 
made  and  found  us  unprepared?" 

"We  must  have  a  system  of  justice  which  will 
make  an  attack  impossible.  But  when  the  time  for 
action  does  come,  and  these  tremendous  armies  with 
their  fearful  new  means  of  warfare  are  brought 
into  the  field,  it  will  be  a  serious,  a  gigantic  catas- 
trophe. Help  and  care  will  be  an  impossibility. 
The  endeavors  of  the  Sanitary  or  Red  Cross  corps, 
the  means  of  provision,  will  prove  a  mere  irony 
of  the  demands;  the  next  war  of  which  people  so 
glibly  and  indifferently  speak  will  not  be  a  victory 
for  the  one  and  a  loss  for  the  other,  but  destruction 
for  all.  Who  among  us  desires  this  serious  attack?" 

"  I,  certainly  not,"  said  the  minister.  "  You,  of 
course  not,  dear  Doctor,  but  men  in  general.  Our 
government,  possibly  not,  but  other  states." 

"With  what  right  do  you  deem  other  people 
worse  and  less  intelligent  than  yourself  and  me?  I 
will  tell  you  a  little  story: 

"  Once  upon  a  time  a  thousand  and  one  men  stood 
before  the  gate  of  a  beautiful  garden,  longingly 
looking  over  the  wall,  desiring  to  enter.  The  gate- 
keeper had  been  ordered  to  admit  the  people,  pro- 
vided the  majority  wished  admittance.  He  called 
one  man  up:  'Tell  me  honestly,  do  you  want  to 
come  in?'  'Certainly,'  he  replied,  'but  the  other 
thousand  do  not  care  about  it.' 

"The  shrewd  custodian  wrote  this  answer  in  his 
note-book.  He  then  called  a  second.  He  made 


"  GRO  UND  A  RMS  I  "  285 

the  same  reply.  Again  the  wise  man  wrote  under 
the  word  'yes'  the  figure  one,  and  under  the  word 
'no'  the  figure  one  thousand.  So  he  went  on  to 
the  very  last  man.  Then  he  added  up  the  columns. 
The  result  was:  One  thousand  and  one  'yeas/ 
but  over  a  million  'noes.'  So  the  gate  remained 
shut  because  the  '  noes  '  had  an  immense  majority. 
And  that  came  about  because  each  one  not  only 
answered  for  himself,  but  felt  himself  obliged  to 
answer  for  all  the  others." 

"It  would  be  a  noble  thing,"  replied  the  minister 
reflectively,  "  if  by  general  consent  disarmament 
could  be  effected.  But  what  government  would 
dare  to  begin?  There  is  nothing,  upon  the  whole, 
more  desirable  than  peace;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
how  can  we  maintain  it;  how  can  we  look  for  dura- 
ble peace  so  long  as  human  passions  and  diverse 
interests  exist?" 

"Allow  me,"  said  my  son  Rudolph.  "Forty  mil- 
lion inhabitants  form  a  state.  Why  not  one  hun- 
dred millions?  One  could  prove  logically  and  math- 
ematically that  so  long  as  forty  millions,  notwith- 
standing diverse  interests  and  human  passions,  can 
restrain  themselves  from  warring  with  one  another 
— as  the  three  states,  the  Triple  Alliance,  or  five 
states,  can  form  a  league  of  peace — one  hundred 
millions  can  do  the  same?  But,  in  truth,  the  world 
nowadays  calls  itself  immensely  wise,  and  ridi- 
cules the  barbarians;  and  yet  in  many  things  we 
cannot  count  five." 

Several  voices  exclaimed:  "What?  barbarians — 
with  our  refined  civilization?  And  the  close  of  the 
nineteenth  century?" 

Rudolph  stood  up.  "Yes,  barbarians — I  will 
not  take  back  the  name.  And  so  long  as  we  cling 
to  the  past  we  shall  remain  barbarians.  But  we 
stand  upon  the  threshold  of  a  new  era — all  eyes 
are  looking  forward,  everything  drives  us  on  to- 
ward a  higher  civilization.  Barbarism  is  already 
casting  away  its  ancient  idols  and  its  antiquated 
weapons.  Even  though  we  stand  nearer  to  bar- 


286  "GROUND  ARMS!" 

baric  ideas  than  many  are  willing  to  acknowledge, 
we  are  also  nearer  to  a  nobler  development  than 
many  dare  even  hope.  Possibly  the  prince  or  the 
statesman  is  now  alive  who  will  figure  in  all  future 
history  as  the  most  famous,  the  most  enlightened, 
because  he  will  have  brought  about  this  general 
laying  down  of  arms.  Even  now  the  insane  idea 
is  dying  out,  notwithstanding  that  diplomatic  ego- 
tism attempts  to  justify  itself  by  its  assertion — the 
insane  idea  that  the  destruction  of  one  person  is 
the  security  of  another.  Already  the  realization 
that  justice  must  be  the  foundation  of  all  social 
life  is  glimmering  upon  the  world,  and  from  an 
acknowledgment  of  this  truth  humanity  must  gain 
a  nobler  stature — that  development  of  humanity 
for  which  Frederick  Tilling  labored.  Mother,  I 
drink  to  the  memory  of  your  devoted  husband, 
to  whom  I  also  owe  it  that  I  am  what  I  am.  Out 
of  this  glass  no  other  toast  shall  ever  be  drank  "- 
and  he  threw  it  against  the  wall  where  it  fell  shat- 
tered to  pieces — "  at  this  baptismal  feast  of  the 
first-born  no  other  toast  shall  be  offered.  We 
drink  not  to  our  fathers'  fathers — as  the  old  phrase 
went — no;  but  to  our  grandsons.  Mother — what 
is  it?"  he  stopped  suddenly.  "You  are  weeping. 
What  do  you  see  there? " 

My  glance  had  fallen  on  the  open  door.  The 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  fell  on  a  rose  bush,  covering 
it  with  its  golden  shimmer,  and  there  stood — the 
figure  of  my  dreams.  I  saw  the  white  hair,  the 
glitter  of  the  garden  shears. 

"It  is  true,  is  it  not?"  he  smiled  at  me — "we  are 
a  happy  old  couple? " 

Ah,  me! 


THE  END. 


MONK  AND   KNIGHT 

Sn  HMstorfcal  Stu&s  in  fiction. 

BY  THE  REV.  DR.  FRANK  W.  GUNSAULUS. 

TwoVols.    12mo,  707  pages.    Price,  $2.50. 


If  it  is  not  a  romance  of  extraordinary  value  we  are  at  fault  in  our  judg- 
ment. It  is  not  only  readable  but  deeply  interesting  from  beginning  to 
end.  .  .  .  "Monk  and  Knight"  is  a  novel  and  a  history — a 
fiction  kept  strictly  within  the  bounds  of  an  epoch,  and  made  the  vehicle 
for  the  story  of  a  great  human  struggle.  It  has,  moreover,  a  very  definite 
purpose  in  not  only  presenting  past  history,  but  in  suggesting  its  signifi- 
cance in  relation  to  present  movements  of  civilization.  .  .  .  One 
thing  may  be  said  of  "  Monk  and  Knight  "  that  can  be  said  of  few  recent 
historical  romances:  it  maintains  the  seriousness  and  dignity  of  truth  from 
beginning  to  end.  It  reads  like  a  biography  at  times,  and  at  other  times 
like  outright  history;  yet  one  never  misses  the  story,  a  sort  of  prose-epic, 
that  glimpses  here  and  comes  out  full  and  strong  yonder,  all  the  way  along. 
This  novel  makes  a  strong  and  singularly  fascinating  im- 
pression. The  publishers  have  spared  no  pains  to  make  the  book  beautiful, 
and  it  is  in  every  way  a  credit  to  its  makers.—  The  Independent,  New  York. 

It  is  not  easy  to  characterize  this  powerful  book,  for  it  is  unique.  John 
Inglesant  is  suggested  by  some  of  the  chapters.  But  Mr.  Gunsaulus  is  a 
much  more  learned  man  than  Mr.  Shorthouse,  and  his  store  of  ecclesias- 
tical and  political  knowledge  is  infinitely  greater.  If  Mr.  Henry  Charles 
Lea  were  a  writer  of  fiction,  he  alone  of  living  men  could,  from  his  studies 
in  church  history,  produce  a  book  equal  to  this.  Let  not  the  ordinary 
novel  lover  try  to  read  "  Monk  and  Knight."  It  is  a  book  for  students,  who 
will  see  through  the  veil  of  fiction  more  of  the  genuine  religious  and  secu- 
lar life  of  the  sixteenth  century  than  they  can  discover  in  hundreds  of  dry 
avowedly  historic  novels.  They  will  be  charmed  with  the  manly  grace 
and  purity  of  the  author's  style,  and  will  not  be  willing  to  lay  down  his 
volumes  until  they  have  read  every  word.—  The  Evening  Bulletin,  Phila- 
delphia. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

COR.  WABASH  AVB.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO. 


THE  STORY  OF  TONTY. 

AN  HISTORICAL  ROMANCE. 

BY  MRS.  MARY  HARTWELL  CATHERWOOD. 

I2mo,  224  pages.     Price,  §1.25. 


"  The  Story  of  Tonty  "  is  eminently  a  Western  story,  beginning  at  Mon- 
treal, tarrying  at  Fort  Frontenac,  and  ending  at  the  old  fort  at  Starved 
Rock,  on  the  Illinois  River.  It  weaves  the  adventures  of  the  two  great 
explorers,  the  intrepid  La  Salle  and  his  faithful  lieutenant,  Tonty,  into  a 
tale  as  thrilling  and  romantic  as  the  descriptive  portions  are  brilliant  and 
vivid.  It  is  superbly  illustrated  with  twenty-three  masterly  drawings  by 
Mr.  Enoch  Ward. 

Such  tales  as  this  render  service  past  expression  to  the  cause  of  history. 
They  weave  a  spell  in  which  old  chronicles  are  vivified  and  breathe  out 
human  life.  Mrs.  Catherwood,  in  thus  bringing  out  from  the  treasure- 
houses  of  half-forgotten  historical  record  things  new  and  old,  has  set  her- 
self one  of  the  worthiest  literary  tasks  of  her  generation,  and  is  showing 
herself  finely  adequate  to  its  fulfillment.—  Transcript,  Boston. 

A  powerful  story  by  a  writer  newly  sprung  to  fame.  .  .  .  All 
the  century  we  have  been  waiting  for  the  deft  hand  that  could  put  flesh 
upon  the  dry  bones  of  our  early  heroes.  Here  is  a  recreation  indeed. 
One  comes  from  the  reading  of  the  romance  with  a  quickened  interest  in 
our  early  national  history,  and  a  profound  admiration  for  the  art  that  can 
so  transport  us  to  the  dreamful  realms  where  fancy  is  monarch  of  fact. — 
Press,  Philadelphia. 

"  The  Story  of  Tonty"  is  full  of  the  atmosphere  of  its  time.  It  betrays 
an  intimate  and  sympathetic  knowledge  of  the  great  age  of  explorers,  and 
it  is  altogether  a  charming  piece  of  work. — Christian  Union,  New  York. 

Original  in  treatment,  in  subject,  and  in  all  the  details  of  mise  en  scene, 
it  must  stand  unique  among  recent  romances. — News,  Chicago. 
A  vivid  series  of  fascinating  pictures.— New  York  Observer. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  mailed,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

COR.  WABASH  AVE.  AND  MADISON  ST.,  CHICAGO. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


|£LF    OCTKM988 

NON-RENEWABLE 


JUN  2  5  1991 


DUE  2  WKS  FROM  DATE  f 


JAH  16  15  98 


ECEIVED 


" 

MAY  0  1  2003 
;LO 


\N 


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A    000106730     5 


